


Long Way Home

by t_fic (topaz), topaz, topaz119 (topaz)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Community: j2_everafter, First Kiss, First Time, Holidays, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-21
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-11 11:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/t_fic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz119
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Jared had to do was get in, find the treasure, and get out before everybody figured out the scam. Simple. Yeah, <i>right</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2010 j2_everafter challenge, riffing off of _Candleshoe_. It turns out that Jared really does make an awesome Jodie Foster stand-in!

_September, 1986_

Later, they would call it one of the worst freeway accidents Los Angeles had seen. Three tractor trailers jack-knifed; a dozen cars twisted and crumpled, all but unrecognizable; dozens more totalled; traffic snarled for miles in both directions. Helicopters circled overhead, whipping the smoke that poured from the worst of the cars into a fog that drifted over everything. Emergency-band radios blared non-stop with calls for metal cutters and chemical packs and _EMTs right the fuck now_.

In the confusion, it was easy for the little boy, cut from the back of a destroyed Mercedes sedan while the firefighters worked to get to his parents, to run from the noise and the smoke and the heat, to tumble down the hill on the side of the freeway and run and run until he found someplace safe and quiet to hide himself away.


	2. Chapter 2

_June, 1997_

The thing was, being in the foster care system wasn't nearly as bad as everyone always made it out to be. Jared had his boys, and he had a place to flop, and in a couple of weeks, he was going to be old enough to ditch school, which meant that he could probably lose this latest group home without anybody much caring.

LA wasn't a bad place to be, either--he could have ended up on his own in a lot of cities that didn't have half as much to do. Plus, there was always somebody who needed an extra pair of hands to park cars or hand out flyers, cash on the line and no questions asked, so he could usually manage to keep some money around for the little emergencies in life. So, yeah, life was pretty okay, at least until he let himself into the apartment, and saw the guy, all sharp-cut suit and shaved head and big smile, but topped by the flat, cold eyes of a con man. Before Jared could do more than take a step back toward the door, somebody grabbed him from behind and Cue Ball got right up into his personal space.

"Hey," Jared yelled, not because he expected anyone to help--Barbara, the overnight relief social worker was sitting in the kitchen and Cue Ball and friend were clearly in the place by invitation--but more to let the guy know Jared wasn't the type who was going to roll over and go quietly. A lot of the time, just making noise was enough to get the creeps to stay away. There were always kids who were too scared to even do that much, and Jared was sorry for them, and sorry about all the jerks he'd personally dumped on them, but you had to take care of yourself out in the world. Jared looked out for as many people as he could, but he couldn't save everyone.

"Relax, kid," Cue Ball said, which, yeah, sure, like Jared was going to listen to him. He reached for Jared, but instead of anything really skeevy, he pushed back the hair that always fell down into Jared's eyes, and looked for the scar along Jared's hairline like he knew it'd be there. "Yeah," he said to the guy holding Jared. "That's one."

Jared jerked his head away and managed to bang it into the forehead of whatever goon was holding him from behind. If he'd had any kind of luck, that would have been enough to get him free, at least enough that he could have gone out the window and onto the fire escape. Chad couldn't have gotten too far away and he'd at least give Jared some place to hide out until these guys gave up and found somebody else to play with. Of course, he didn't have even close to that kind of luck, so all that ended up happening was that he saw stars and Cue Ball rolled his eyes and stuck his hand down the stretched-out collar of Jared's t-shirt. He pulled it half-off Jared's shoulder and grunted with satisfaction when he saw the other scar, the one that danced across Jared's shoulder and down his back.

"Where'd you get those scars, kid?" The look on his face told Jared that he didn't care if he smacked Jared around to get answers, but he jerked his head and the goon friend let Jared go. "I'm pretty sure you're not deaf, and I know you can talk, so answer my fucking question."

Jared shrugged. "Dunno. I've always had them."

"Good answer." Cue Ball pulled an envelope out of his pocket and turned to drop it on the kitchen table. "Remember it, and this whole thing is gonna be a snap."

"What whole thing?" Jared stared as Barbara, who'd always been such a pushover, picked up the envelope and started counting the money inside it. "Wait a second, what's go--"

"Shut up, kid," Cue Ball said. He pointed to a garbage bag sitting by the front door. "Your stuff's all ready to go, and you and me, we're gonna take a little ride."

He shoved Jared toward the door, kicking the bag after him. Jared took a deep breath, but before he could start yelling, loud enough to maybe get some of the neighbors to call the cops and complain, Cue Ball said, low and easy, "Quietly. You and me are taking a ride, _quietly_, or that pretty little rentboy you hang with isn't going to make it through his next trick."

Jared froze. Chad was a good guy for all his attitude, and yeah, he turned tricks at night, but when he was awake during the day, he never minded Jared hanging around, playing with the mangy dog that always seemed to follow at his heels. He was streetwise and nobody's fool, but Jared knew how easy it would be for him to get in some john's car and never come back. Nobody would even blink.

"I got a proposition for you, but I don't need any extra interest in all this, so _quietly_ is the operative word here, and I don't give a fuck what I need to do to get it." Cue Ball looked right at him, and Jared read the truth in his eyes. "Waitin' on you, kid."

Jared swallowed hard, jerking away from him and picking up the trash bag. "Thanks for nothing," he said to Barbara. "Hope whatever he paid you was worth it."

"She was pretty cheap," Cue Ball said, as he crowded Jared down the stairs. "But that's more a reflection on her than you, so don't feel too bad, kid."

Jared kept his mouth shut and got into the back of the SUV Cue Ball pointed him to, crawling across the seat to get as far away as he could. The other goon got in the driver's seat, starting the car and pulling out of the alley without a word. Jared stared out of the window and tried to keep from totally freaking out. He might only be 15, but he'd been on his own for as long as he could remember, moving between foster homes and group homes and one nasty stint in Juvie; he could keep it together long enough to deal with these guys and get back to warn Chad. He focused on paying attention to where they were going so he had a prayer of getting back to where he knew the best places to disappear for a couple of weeks were.

He tensed up when GoonFace pulled onto a freeway--surface streets he could deal with, but he hated the freeways and had never figured out how they fit together--and Cue Ball laughed.

"I'll make you a deal, kid. You shut up and do your part and I'll personally make sure you get back to your rentboy."

"I'm here." Jared kept looking out the window and didn't bother with the explanation that he and Chad were friends. Nobody ever believed them, and he really didn't care what these guys thought as long as nobody got hurt. "You keep talking about a deal, so what is it?"

"Not just yet," Cue Ball said.

"Yeah," Jared snorted. "That's what I thought."

"Oh, there's a deal, kid, and it'll get you more than you've ever dreamed of."

"What? You're going to make me a star?" Jared smiled, as innocently as possible. "You got investors who like 'em young?"

"Not likely." Cue Ball laughed. "If I was after a twink, I'd have gone for your friend with the pretty mouth. I'll bet he wouldn't be giving me half the trouble you are." He leaned back in the seat and looked Jared up and down. "No, I need _you_, and I'm willing to cut you in, but you need to watch that mouth because there's nothing that says I have to keep you healthy after the job's done."

As threats went, it was fairly uninteresting; Jared didn't bother to even blink. The rest of it was good, at least for right now. If Cue Ball needed him, Jared had at least a little breathing room.

"You got a name?" Jared returned Cue Ball's look, letting his eyes sweep over him, from the top of his shaved head right down to the fancy leather loafers Jared knew were knock-offs. "Or should I go on and call you Cue Ball to your face?"

Cue Ball laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Michael," he said. "Mr. Rosenbaum to you, kid."

"Whatever you say," Jared said, settling back in the seat and smirking. _Cue ball_, he added in his head.

***

The hotel they pulled up to was nice, way nicer than anyplace Jared had ever been, with a guy who came out and opened the door, and another one who slid into the driver's seat after GoonFace got out, and drove the car off to park it. They all looked at Jared the same way, though: like he wasn't worth the time to sneer at. Rosenbaum said something low to the driver and then got Jared moving through lobby, keeping him close like he was afraid Jared might bolt, and turning down the first elevator because it already had people in it.

The room they went into turned out to be cramped and not all that impressive; Jared was weirdly disappointed. After the big show in the lobby, he was expecting something other than a view of the parking lot and freeway and a bunch of cheap furniture that didn't look any better than what they had at the group home.

"First things first." Rosenbaum pointed toward the bathroom. "There's a shower in there, and I'm going to assume you know how to use it, despite all evidence to the contrary."

Jared gave him his best glare, but there had been eight kids at the group home and one pretty disgusting bathroom, so he hadn't spent any more time than was absolutely necessary in the shower for a couple of months. He was pretty sure that even with the disappointing room there would be enough hot water to get really clean, and he didn't care how soft it made him sound; he was actually looking forward to it.

"Here," Rosenbaum said, pulling a bag out of the closet. "You're skinnier than I thought, but there's a belt in there. If the rest of your stuff looks like what you're wearing, we're better off burning it."

Jared slammed the door behind him and pushed the little button on the knob in to lock it. Rosenbaum laughed. Jared knew the stupid thing could be opened with a bobby pin, but it felt better to have even that little bit of privacy. The bathroom itself was old and kind of ugly with its green and gold tiles, but the water that gushed out of the showerhead steamed up the room almost instantly and there were four--clean--towels on a rack. The little bottle of shampoo smelled like flowers, but not even that could come close to killing Jared's enjoyment of everything else.

He stayed under the water until his fingers were all prune-y and the rest of him felt half-boiled, but no one tried to come in, or even knock. When he got out and investigated the contents of the bag Rosenbaum had given him, he found a comb and a toothbrush, as well as a razor and some shaving cream and the clothes. The razor was still pretty unnecessary, and the clothes were really dumb-looking, but the toothbrush was new and not broken down and even if the clothes were khakis and a shirt like prep school kids on TV wore, they were clean and they fit reasonably well. He combed his hair back out of his eyes and brushed his teeth a second time and thought about shaving, even if it wasn't necessary, but then Rosenbaum called, "Enough, princess. Come on and get your ass out here."

There was another person in the room when Jared opened the door--another guy, not GoonFace, dressed more like Rosenbaum, in cheap versions of designer clothes. He was tall, with dark hair and blue eyes that were as cold and flat as Rosenbaum's. He looked hard at Jared and nodded slowly.

"Yeah," New Guy said. "The son-in-law was a tall son-of-a-bitch, and the coloring is pretty good." He started over toward Jared. "You said the scars were right, too?"

"Yeah, he did." Jared jerked away before New Guy could go through the whole routine with the dumb scars he'd had since forever. "I got one on my head and one on my back and shoulder and I'd really appreciate it if somebody would start telling me why the fuck they're such a big deal."

"Watch the attitude, kid," Rosenbaum said, mildly. He pointed to a cart that had covered plates on it. "Give your mouth something to do besides yap at me and I'll tell you why your precious scars are so important."

Jared sat in the straight-backed desk chair and started in on the cheeseburger and soggy fries and listened hard.

"Twelve years ago, there was this big smash-up out on the freeway. Fifteen, twenty cars all piled up into each other and it takes the cops forever and a day to sort out who everybody is. Now, it turns out that the daughter of the Marchioness of Candleshoe and her husband and their kid were in one of the cars. They don't make it, the daughter and her husband, and first the cops thought the kid was dead, too--they had a body and all, but then there was this big stink and it turns out the body they thought went with those two was actually somebody else. The kid we care about--nobody knows nothin' about him. A little boy, four years old, and the apple of his grandma's eye, and he's gone. The old lady hired a dozen detectives, had them running around for months, but they never found him."

"My scars?" Jared pretended to be bored, but he thought he knew where these guys were going, and he was right, they _were_ con men. It made him relax a little.

"See, that's where it gets interesting," Rosenbaum said, grinning. "Seems little Tristan was a real bundle of energy, and even though he was only four, he'd already taken a header out of a tree and had to have a couple of stitches, and he'd gotten himself hung up crawling under a hedge with briars and did a number on his shoulder, too."

"Nice," Jared said. "And old lady, she's going to fall all over me just because I've got scars in the right place? Why won't she do like on Jerry Springer, when some chick sleeps around and gets pregnant and they do a test to see who the father is?"

"DNA testing," New Guy said. "And she will, she's a smart old dame, but here's the thing: DNA testing doesn't work so good grandmother to grandson. She could get in touch with the husband's family, get somebody from there to give a sample, but he was American, and that'll take a little time."

"And that's all we need," Rosenbaum said. "A little time. It's an interesting family, the St. Edmunds. Her family, not the Candleshoe side. They're boring as fuck, but the old lady's great-great-grandfather, he was a traveler. Sea captain. Went all over the world and brought back all kinds of crap they still have sitting out all over the place. But they say he hid away his biggest treasure, kept it from the rest of the family until he could figure out how not to pay taxes on it."

"Only he died before he could do anything," New Guy said.

"Yeah? That's too bad," Jared said. "Who's this guy anyway?" he asked Rosenbaum.

"This is Tommy," Rosenbaum said. "He's the reason you're not gonna get thrown out on your ass five seconds after the old lady meets you, so shut up and listen."

"I worked there, for a while. Her estate. Helped keep her cars running and did whatever else they needed, until that bastard Morgan decided he didn't need anybody showing him up and fired me."

"What he means is that the guy who runs the place for the old lady caught him fencing everything that wasn't nailed down and threw him out so hard he bounced on the way."

The two of them glared at each other. Jared shrugged and kept eating. The cheeseburger was pretty average, but it was food and you didn't leave anything on your plate. First rule of keeping yourself going when nobody gave a shit about you.

After a couple of minutes, the Tommy guy got over his snit fit and said, "Two things. Tristan, the kid that got lost, he and his mom spent summers at the old lady's house. So I saw him around. It's how we know about the scars. You'd have thought the kid was going to bleed out with all the fussing that went on."

"That's one," Jared said, with his mouth still full. It was hilarious the faces the other two guys made, like they were so into manners and shit while they were talking about pulling a con on some old lady.

"Two is that before I left, I found this note. It was stuck down in an old trunk that had been moved out into the garage." He waved a piece of old paper at Jared, and all Jared could see was that it was covered with old-timey-looking writing, like in pictures of the Declaration of Independence in textbooks.

"Uh, good for you?"

Rosenbaum snorted with laughter, but he smacked the back of Jared's head hard enough to let him know he was skating a little too close to the edge. "Yeah, good for all of us, because it's from the old sea captain's journal."

"And it was wrapped around these." Tommy dropped a couple of big, gold coins on the table, and Jared couldn't look away because they were really gold. Not just the color gold, but _gold_, like in…

"Buried treasure." Jared grinned, and almost forgot he was sitting with a couple of guys who'd already dragged him out of his (admittedly lame) home and threatened his friends, because seriously, buried treasure?

"Right in one." Rosenbaum smiled. It almost looked like a normal, human emotion; Jared wasn't surprised it was tied to money. "The journal, it had this one page about the old guy's stash and then said, _ For the sunrise student, there is treasure among books_."

Jared snorted and Rosenbaum shrugged. "Yeah, okay, it doesn't make much sense, except we figure it could mean there's more in the library at the house."

"Oh, I get it. That's why you need me," Jared said. "That's why you don't care if the old lady eventually figures out I'm not her grandkid. You just want me on the inside long enough to do some poking around, because Tommy-boy over there got run out of town before he could find out anything more."

"You get in, you get the gold, and you get out," Rosenbaum said. "Simple."

"Yeah? What's in it for me?"

"Aside from me not dumping you out of a moving car?" Rosenbaum asked. "I'll be generous and give you five percent."

"Yeah, right," Jared said. "Fifty-fifty."

"You got nerve, kid." Rosenbaum grinned again. It still didn't get near his eyes. "Lucky for you, I like that in somebody who works for me. I'll give you ten."

"You need me more than I need you," Jared said. "You don't have me; you don't have anybody on the inside. Sixty-forty."

"Let's be real clear about this," Rosenbaum said, coming to his feet in one smooth motion and fisting his hand in the front of Jared's shirt. He wasn't quite as tall as Jared, but he was heavier, solid where Jared was still skinny and lanky. He dragged Jared to his feet and shook him once, hard enough that Jared's head bounced off the wall behind him. "I don't _need_ you. It makes it a little easier to get on the old lady's property, but I can always go and get somebody to work for her. You do what I tell you and take the fucking money I give you and nobody winds up in a dumpster anywhere." He shook Jared again. "You got that?"

"Yeah," Jared gritted out, blinking hard to clear his head. "I got it."

"Good." Rosenbaum let go of Jared, shoving him back, and stepped over to the mirror. He smoothed out his clothes, straightening his cuffs and adjusting his jacket. "Finish your goddamned dinner and let's get this thing started."

***

Things moved pretty fast after that. Rosenbaum had a letter all ready to send to the old lady's attorney; he took Jared's picture and added that, and sent it overnight to London. Jared didn't think he expected to be contacted two days later, but apparently the old lady wanted to see them, pronto. Tommy's reaction was pretty interesting, Jared thought, as though he hadn't expected the letter to work. It lit a fire under them though, enough that Rosenbaum sprang for some high-end agency that dealt with passports to get Jared one practically overnight. Whatever Rosenbaum had paid Barbara, it was enough that he had all the paperwork that let him do all that. They were on a plane to London a couple of days after that, not much more than a week after Jared had come home to find Rosenbaum waiting for him.

Tommy was a prissy pain-in-the-ass, and he was full of useless trivia, like what Tristan's favorite stuffed animal was, like it was going to be a deal-breaker if Jared couldn't remember that after twelve years. He did manage to come up with a couple important bits of information, like the detail that Tristan had been allergic to strawberries. He also sketched out some fireplace that had a secret compartment in it, something that the kid had been crazy about--which Jared couldn't say as he blamed him, because secret compartments were just cool, especially when you were only four years old. There was more, stuff about a music box and composers that Jared barely paid any attention to, because again, who would really expect him to remember crap like that?

Tommy whined about Jared's not listening until Rosenbaum got in on it, but he wasn't hitting Jared hard enough to really scare him, so Jared pretended like he'd learned his lesson and got through all the stupid details well enough that they left him alone. No matter how tough a game Rosy talked, Jared figured they really did need him. If it'd be so easy to get somebody on the inside, they'd have done it years ago. That still didn't mean Jared needed any more grief in his life, though.

The hotel they were staying at in London was pretty much like the one in LA--fancy on the outside, but nothing special once you got in it. On the second day they were there, Tommy took Jared out and bought him some clothes. Between how tall Jared had gotten and how skinny he still was, it was next to impossible to find stuff that fit him, but the old guy at the shop fiddled with the one suit that wasn't a joke. When he was done, Jared still felt like an idiot, but at least the pants were long enough and his bony wrists weren't totally hanging out of the sleeves.

They were set to have tea with the old lady at her house a couple of days after they got to London, but it was only Jared and Rosenbaum driving there. Tommy wasn't getting any closer than he had to, and Jared didn't think it was just because him getting recognized would blow the whole deal before it ever started. He was used to paying attention to people, their faces and body language--sometimes that gave you enough of a head start to get out of the line of fire when some foster home was falling apart around you--and everything he was seeing said that Tommy was afraid. Jared filed that away, that the guy who ran the place could be pretty scary, and that the lady who owned it paid him to be that way. If all this went to hell, Jared was under no illusion that Rosenbaum was going to save his ass. He was on his own. Like always.

The car they'd rented was ridiculously tiny, like some kind of a toy. Jared barely fit, even with the seat pushed all the way back, and Rosenbaum swore the whole time they were driving. They got to the village okay--Jared still couldn't get over a country that had villages, instead of, y'know, _cities_\--but then they got good and lost. Rosenbaum got madder and madder, and there was no place to hide, so Jared kept his mouth shut and ran through the list of crap Tommy had told him about the lost kid until they managed to get back on the right road and make the final turn to the old lady's house.

The driveway was long and twisty, with trees and hedges and shrubs everywhere. Jared had been on actual streets that were shorter, but they finally came around one final bend in the road and saw the house. It was big, of course, and pretty fancy, with lots of chimneys and windows, three stories and a wing that jutted off one side, but it had a homey look, too. The shrubs and bushes around it were all neatly trimmed and the grass was perfect, but there were flowers planted everywhere and around one corner, Jared could just see the edge of a pond. It had a willow tree planted on the banks, with a bench next to it. It looked like a really nice place to sit, away from everybody, nice and peaceful.

Rosenbaum pulled up to the front door and turned off the engine with a final grinding of gears, and Jared was out of the car almost before it stopped, his knees cracking as he stretched. Rosenbaum followed almost as quickly.

"You remember everything Tommy told you?" Rosy kept his voice low, but Jared heard the threat in it. "You watch the attitude. We're only going to get one shot at this."

"I got it," Jared answered, quietly, because it was real now. Rosy might be a con man, but he was right. Jared was only going to get one chance at this and if he screwed up, he was on the other side of an ocean from anyone who might be able to help him. The two of them walked up the steps to the big front door. It was wood, carved in panels and it had a giant metal door knocker on it that boomed like a cannon shot when Rosy let it fall.

The door opened fast enough that Jared was pretty sure they'd been waiting and watching for the car. The guy who opened it didn't look old enough to have been the guy who'd run Tommy off, but he definitely looked at Rosy like he'd be happy to do it right then and there. His eyes swept over Jared, quick and assessing. Jared did his best to look like he was just some dumb kid, someone who never dreamed of pretending to be someone he wasn't.

Rosy went through his song and dance, how he was Michael Rosenbaum, Esquire, and he had an appointment with the Marchioness. Jared barely managed not to roll his eyes; Morgan's eyes flickered to Jared once, before he turned and led the way into the house.

"The Dowager Marchioness is expecting you," he said, with the slightest emphasis on the Dowager part, the perfect amount to point out that Rosy had made some kind of a mistake. Jared kept a straight face as though he hadn't noticed anything, but inside, he was pretty much loving the way Rosy flushed at the dig.

They went into a room that faced out onto a garden, big floor-to-ceiling windows along the outside wall with doors that led out onto a gravel path. The furniture was big, too; a couple of couches and some chairs, all covered with a flowered print that had faded a little in the sun. There was a big crystal chandelier and lots of little tables. It was a nice room, sunny and welcoming, but Jared knew instantly why they were there. The fireplace that took up most of one wall was the one that Tommy had described to him. Jared pretended not to notice it, which was easy, because there was a mound of food on one of the tables, and just looking at it made him hungry.

He and Rosy were alone in the room long enough for Rosy to glare at him and remind him to watch the attitude, and then the old lady was there.

"Mr. Rosenbaum." She really was old, but she moved easily and didn't need a cane or anything. She was tiny--Jared thought she probably didn't even get much past his ribs--and had snow-white hair put up into a bun, only instead of looking like some boring old librarian, it made her look like she was wearing a crown. Jared tried not to stare, but he got the feeling she was doing the same thing with him. "Thank you for coming, and so quickly. There have been so very many people who have claimed to have found my grandson that I've found it best to take care of things as speedily as possible. You understand that there is no reward for my grandson's return."

"Yes, your ladyship. It would be reward enough to see your family restored."

Jared did roll his eyes at that piece of bullshit, but he had his head down, so he didn't think anyone noticed.

"Now, child, let me look at you." Her voice was kind when she turned to Jared, and her eyes were a soft, faded blue, but still sharp and intelligent when he met them. "You're called Jared?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jared answered, hoping like hell she wasn't going to start with the Tristan stuff because there was no way in hell he was going to remember to answer to _that_.

"You're quite tall already, and not done growing yet, I don't think."

"I've always been tall," Jared told her. "Even when I was a kid, but it's kind of getting ridiculous lately."

She smiled and looked at him for a long time, as though she was trying to see how he might be her family. "Come," she said, finally. "Sit down and we'll have some tea, and chat for a bit."

She settled herself in one of the big wingback chairs and started pouring out of a huge silver teapot. Jared really didn't care about the tea, but she passed him a plate piled with biscuits and sandwiches and cookies and Jared wasn't sure what else, so that was pretty good. Rosy started into the whole story about how he was a private investigator, looking for a runaway when he came across Jared's file with the California Department of Child Welfare, and thought of how Jared's case fit with her grandson's case.

That part wasn't bad, Jared thought, but then Rosy started going off on how he'd always been fascinated by the case, and if he didn't shut up soon, Jared wasn't going to get the chance to charm the old lady because she was going to throw them out right then and there.

Jared thought he might have been mistaken about the fireplace, like maybe it was coincidence, but when the old lady broke off her conversation with Rosy to offer Jared some strawberries to eat with the biscuit-y things she called scones, Jared knew for sure it was a test.

"They smell really good," he told her--and they did, sweet and ripe and mouth-watering. "But I can't eat them. I break out in hives. Sorry."

She murmured something about it being quite all right, and Jared decided it was time to start the act. He glanced at the fireplace and let his eyes linger there just a little too long before he turned back to the conversation.

"The file Mr. Rosenbaum sent me said that you were placed in the state's custody over eleven years ago."

Jared shrugged. "I don't remember anything, really. I've always been in foster homes." That much was the truth. "I know they said in my file that I didn't talk much, even though I was like, four or five when I went to my first foster parents, but I don't know why or anything."

He looked at the fireplace again, and then asked for more of the sandwiches. They were pretty tasty for being little things with unidentifiable green stuff in them. Jared could have easily eaten two at a time, but he did his best to be polite and not stuff his face. Rosy was giving her the big speech about Jared's scars, so Jared pushed his hair back and showed her that one, and told her about the one on the back of his shoulder.

"I don't remember how I got them," Jared said, again truthfully. It shouldn't have been so hard to look at the old lady. "I've had them as long as I can remember."

"Does any of this look familiar?" she finally asked, and that was the opening Jared had been waiting for. He took a deep breath and settled his nerves. This was what he needed to do.

"No, not really," Jared said, and tried not to crack up at Rosy choking on his tea. "You seem really nice, but honestly, I don't think I'm your grandson. This guy grabbed me the other week and told me how I was this long-lost kid, and I thought, y'know, it'd be cool to take a trip to England and all. Kids like me don't usually get to go anywhere."

"Well," she said, and she actually sounded disappointed, not like she was relieved not to have to claim some street kid as her family. "I appreciate your candor, young man. I have to ask you, though, why you keep looking at my fireplace."

"Oh," Jared said, and kept his face calm as he set the hook. He hoped like hell Rosy kept his grip on things. "It's pretty cool, and it looks like something I must have seen in a movie once. I mean, trust me, group homes in LA don't have anything like that. The one it reminds me of, it had a secret compartment. I remember thinking that was the coolest thing ever, you know?"

"Really," she said. "I quite agree--secret compartments are very exciting. In the one you saw, do you remember where the compartment was?"

"It was kind of, over on the side?" Jared said, putting down his plate and going up to the fireplace. "Like, over here." He waved toward the carved mantel. "And, there were things like this--" He touched the carved flowers, roses, Tommy had said, and the fourth one in was the lock spring. "And if you knew the right one to touch, the secret compartment opened." He rubbed his thumb over the fourth rose, but that felt off, somehow. It wasn't the center one of the roses, and it felt like the latch should be more symmetrical. He moved to the fifth rose, the one that was dead-center, and then pushed against it sharply. There was a second when nothing happened, but then the center of the flower depressed with a click, and a small section of the paneling slid open.

Jared stared at it, half relieved, half shocked that it actually had worked. He wasn't faking how his voice shook when he said, "Like that."

"My dear," the old lady said, in this breathless voice. "Come sit down again and have something more to eat." She filled his plate again and then turned to Rosy. "Mr. Rosenbaum, I think we need to discuss some legal matters."

They went down to the other end of the room where there was a fancy, carved desk, and Jared sat and stared at the fireplace.

***

Jared thought him not having any clothes packed up was a nice touch. It made it seem like he'd been telling the truth when he'd said that he didn't think he was the lost kid, a small drop toward evening out the scale that Rosy's innate smarm weighed down. It was all good, except for how it left him with nothing to wear but the stupid suit.

The marchioness was firm in insisting that Jared not leave, and equally firm in ushering Rosy out the door, so that he could send Jared's "effects" along. Jared wasn't sure how she did it, because she was so small, and so polite, but Rosy never got him alone after Jared found the secret compartment. He had to settle for meaningful looks and a promise to "look in on Jared and see how he was settling in" at some later date. Jared nodded and smiled and assured his "friend" that he'd be fine and he couldn't wait to start exploring the house.

Rosenbaum managed to get in one last "you'd better" glare, but then he was gone, the stupid little car trundling down the long driveway, and Jared was alone in a strange place--which, after all, was pretty much the story of his life. He let her show him the room he was going to be staying in and didn't have to fake anything when he said how nice it was. Compared to, oh, every other place he'd ever lived, it was awesome, starting with how it was all for him.

"It's a little old-fashioned," she said, smoothing back the heavy curtains. "But I hate change. I'm very set in my ways. Everyone will tell you that."

It _was_ old-fashioned, with a big, heavy wooden bed, and an equally heavy desk in front of the window. Jared could see the pond from the window, the one with the willow and the bench, and beyond that there were open fields and a blue, blue sky. The covers on the bed, and the curtains, and the rugs on the floor reminded him of the room he'd been in downstairs, faded and soft-looking.

"It fits, though," he murmured. "Like, this room looks like it should be in this house." He shrugged, a little embarrassed, but she only smiled at him. "Um, what should I call you? I don't really even know what a marchioness is," he stumbled on the pronunciation, "let alone what's polite."

"A marchioness--" she said it softly, _martian-ess_ "--is the wife of a marquess. That's not quite as high as a duke, but higher than an earl. And I am the Dowager Marchioness of Candleshoe, which means I was the wife of the previous Marquess."

"So... who's the Mar--the guy now?" Jared didn't really care, but it gave him something to talk about, and getting in good in a new place made everything easier, even if he wasn't trying to throw off any suspicion. "Your son? Is that how it works?"

"Well, yes, but it's my stepson who is the eighth Marquess." She smiled. "I was the second wife and wicked stepmother, very much younger than David, my husband. Hardly older than his sons."

Jared looked at her, really looked, and thought about what she might have looked like a long time ago. "Yeah? I'll bet you were a stone fox in your day."

Unexpectedly, she laughed, waving her hand a little and saying, "Oh, my dear, how terribly kind of you. I had my good points--" She patted her hair, which was thick and pure white, like it might have been one of them. "But for the most part I was a complete hoyden; deeply unsuited to society. My mother and sisters were resigned to my spinsterhood, and then, off I went, eloping with a marquess nearly twice my age when I should have been settling in to be the dotty old auntie. It was _quite_ the scandal." She laughed again, and Jared couldn't help it, he had to laugh, too. She sounded so smug about it all. "We were very happy, and much to everyone's surprise, had a daughter, just to complete the unsuitableness of it all. David died very peacefully when she was still rather young, but she and I had this house to come to, and it's a very good place to raise a family, even a small one."

"She was the one--she died in the car accident?" Jared bit his lip, because sometimes he really needed to think before he talked. "I'm sorry--"

"No, it's fine," she said, but her face had faded. "It's ancient history and none of it answers what you should call me. I suppose any variation on Grandmother is a trifle premature."

"You mean since we don't really know for sure yet," Jared said.

"I was thinking more about how sudden this all must be for you," she said. "My given name is Frances, so perhaps we could come up with something using that."

"Whatever you think," Jared said, doubtfully. It was barely twilight outside, but he yawned, suddenly. "I'm sorry. I'm--my body can't quite figure out what time it's supposed to be."

"Yes, and it's been a rather long day, hasn't it? I'll let you settle in and go see about finding you something a little more comfortable to wear until Mr. Rosenbaum sends your things." She hesitated at the door. "Good-night, dear. I hope you'll be all right here."

"I'll be fine," Jared said. "Everything will be fine." He waited until the door closed and then went and ran a bath in the giant tub in the bathroom. He'd never really been a bath-taking person, but there wasn't a shower, so he did what he always did and made do with what he had. In this case, it wasn't at all bad.


	3. Chapter 3

Even though it was hardly past seven o'clock, Jared fell into bed in his boxers and slept deep and dreamless until the sun came up right outside where he'd not drawn the curtains. He didn't think he'd ever voluntarily gotten up so early, but he felt good, and it was probably a good time to scout out the house. He put the pants to the suit back on, and the shirt, but left the jacket and tie in a heap and rolled the sleeves on the shirt halfway up his forearms. He looked like a moron, but at least he wasn't strangling on the tie.

The house was quiet as he found his way down the hall to the giant staircase. It was long and curved and had an equally giant handrail that was slick and polished when he touched it. Light from the sun spilled in through the windows that lined the hall, the shadows on the floor broken into little diamonds from all the panes, and when he walked through them, they threw the same bright light onto his legs.

He tried two doors before he found the library, but the little surge of excitement he felt on being in the right place died a disappointed death once he got a real look at the place, at how fucking _huge_ it was. He'd gone to schools that didn't have libraries as big as the room he was standing in, and he couldn't help groaning at the thought of trying to find anything in it.

"For the sunrise student, there is treasure among books," he murmured, as much to convince himself that he was in the right place as anything. That pretty much meant a library as far as he knew. Maybe they had books about sunrises, or something. It sounded kind of lame to Jared, but whatever, at least it was a place to start. He started off looking at the shelves right next to the door and got distracted playing with the rolling ladder--seriously, who had a library in their house that needed a _ladder_ to get to all the shelves?--but had a pile of books in front of him on the table when the door opened and the guy who'd let him and Rosy in the day before came in.

"Excuse me," the guy said, as Jared almost knocked the stack of books off the table. "I didn't mean to startle you, but we've been looking for you for breakfast."

"Oh." Jared took a deep breath and put the book down. It didn't have a thing to do with Captain Joshua or the lost treasure--it was a book about a country vet--so he wasn't sure why his heart was pounding, but the first rule of running a scam was to be as honest as possible to make it harder to tell where the truth ended and the other stuff began, so he didn't try to cover up his nervousness, just stood up, saying. "I--it's okay that I came in here, isn't it? I'm not doing anything that I shouldn't be?"

"It's fine--it's been a couple of years since anybody really dug in and spread out in there. Lady Frances will be happy you found something that interested you."

The words were polite--and the tone was, too--but Jared didn't relax, not entirely. Something about the guy's eyes said that he'd be watching Jared. It might have been Jared carrying around a little of the fear he'd picked up from Tommy, but that wasn't all of it, he was sure.

"Um, I'm Jared," he said, following the man down yet another hall, resigned to being lost for a while, even while he tried to pick out landmarks.

"Jeffrey." Again, there was an element of watchfulness in the otherwise polite tone, but he unbent enough to add, "I'm here for a while, helping out with whatever needs to be done."

Jared really wanted to know, but he couldn't figure out a way to ask Jeffrey if he was the one who'd scared the crap out of Tommy a dozen years ago without tipping off that he knew shit he wasn't supposed to, so he nodded and followed. They ended up in a room that was small for the house, one that looked lived-in and more than a little messy, with piles of papers on flat surfaces everywhere and even a big trash bag full of others. Lady Frances (Jared had decided that was what he was going to call her, at least until somebody said something) was sitting at a little round table with lots of plates and platters on it, and Jared's stomach woke up and announced that it wasn't only hungry, but might possibly be ready to gnaw off an arm or leg.

"Oh, excellent, Jeffrey," Lady Frances said. "You found him."

"I was in the library," Jared said, hoping that she wouldn't ask him why, but he needn't have worried.

"Wonderful." She beamed at him. "I'm so glad you're settling in. I thought we could have breakfast here, in my office. So much less formal than the dining room."

"Sure," Jared said, flushing when his stomach growled loud enough to be heard in the next room. It didn't help when old stone-face Jeffrey almost cracked a smile. "I, uh, sorry?"

"Goodness, let's feed that right away," Lady Frances said, going for the covers on the plates, and motioning Jared into the chair opposite her. "Get you acquainted with a proper English country breakfast."

Apparently all the food that had been around the day before with tea hadn't been there for show, and Jared kind of lost himself in the eggs and bacon and sausages and tomatoes and toast. He didn't even mind the tea, not once he got enough milk and sugar in his cup. He was on his third plate, when the big front door boomed shut and a new voice, low and a little husky, called, "Gran?"

"Oh!" Lady Frances said, smiling and surprised. "In my office." She put down her tea and got to her feet right as the best-looking guy Jared had ever seen walked into the room. He was wearing about the same thing as Jared--dark pants and a white shirt--but where Jared felt like an idiot, he looked like something out of the fashion magazines Barbara always read while she pretended to supervise homework. "Jen, darling, I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"You knew I was finished yesterday--"

"Well, of course, but I thought you might have other things you needed to take care of."

"I promised to come and help as soon as I was finished," he said, letting her hug and kiss him, even while his eyes--greengreengreen, Jared thought--flickered curiously over Jared.

"Jen, darling, this is Jared." Lady Frances turned and beckoned Jared forward. "Jared, this is Jensen. He's at Oxford now, most of the year. I've told him all about how you've come to stay."

Jared kept a polite smile on his face; he expected some kind of attitude, something like Jeffrey, but got nothing but a smile in return, and a quiet, "Oh, good, she's got somebody else to feed now."

"Hush, you," Lady Frances said. "But since you mentioned it--"

"No, of course I haven't had anything even half as good as Mrs. Priory's breakfasts, and yes, I'd love some."

"I'll just pop down to the kitchen and gather up some reinforcements, but do have a cup of tea to start." Lady Frances disappeared before Jared could blink, and he was left staring awkwardly.

"She's always been like that," Jensen said, still in that quiet tone. "I come for a stay and it's a miracle if I ever get up from the table."

"It's my first morning, but it doesn't seem like a bad problem to have," Jared said, shrugging.

"No, I don't suppose it is," Jensen said, pouring himself the last of the tea and wrinkling his nose at the bitterness. It didn't stop him from drinking, though, and Jared added _freckles_ to the odd catalog he was keeping in his head. "She and I have spoken a few times about you; I hope that's not too odd. It's just that, well, it's been quite the shock for her."

"I--it's not for sure yet," Jared said. He shouldn't care about the awkwardness; he wasn't here to make friends, but his mouth was running anyway. "There are tests and stuff--"

"Right," Jensen said easily, snagging a piece of toast and reaching for the orange marmalade that Jared hadn't been too sure about. He layered on a thick blob. "You're here, though, and you wouldn't be if she had any serious doubts."

Jared shrugged, but kept his eyes on his food and made himself keep eating, like there was nothing going on, like there weren't guys feeding him information on how to be somebody he wasn't. "I don't remember much of anything from when I was a kid," he said, finally, because the silence was stretching on and on.

"Because you're such an old man now," Jensen said. Jared jerked his head up at the teasing note in Jensen's voice, ready to push back, set the line, because if you didn't do that right from the beginning you were setting yourself up to be the punching bag… but then he got a good look at Jensen and his brain kicked in with how Jensen's eyes were clear and open, smiling, maybe a little hesitant, but not a shred of meanness in them.

This wasn't Jensen telling Jared exactly how low he was in the pecking order; it was really only a little tease. Jared managed to smooth out the glare he'd been working up and find some answer that wasn't calculated to start a fight, something about being older than he looked. It sounded pretty lame to his own ears, and Jensen looked at him kind of funny, but it was better than nothing.

They sat in silence after that, at least until Jeffrey stuck his head in. "Bags?" he asked Jensen.

"Only the one I dropped in the hall," Jensen answered. "No sense having more to pack up."

Jeffrey nodded and left again, and Jared asked, "Is he, like, the butler?"

"God, no." Jensen cracked up, almost choking on his tea. "His father used to take care of all the outdoor stuff, until he retired. Jeffrey's came down to help out for a bit. It's been a madhouse, even before Gran got the news about you."

Before Jared could ask what was going on, Lady Frances came back, along with another woman, who was pushing a little trolley-like cart, with even more food on it. In the general confusion of Jensen jumping up to greet her and plates and bowls getting transferred to the table, Jared figured out that she was the housekeeper and cook, and that she was happy he was there, because it gave her someone with a healthy appetite to cook for. The last bit was said with a stern look toward Lady Frances, who waved her off with an airy gesture.

"She fusses over anyone who doesn't eat their own body weight," Lady Frances said, when Jensen frowned at her, too. "I'm perfectly fine, dear, but I need to take a call from the solicitors, so I'll leave you two to finish off the rest of this feast."

She slipped out of the room before Jensen could put down his fork, and he sighed and shook his head. "She's impossible when she doesn't want to talk to you."

Jared didn't mean to say anything, because he had a job to do, and he didn't need to get involved here, but he heard himself say, "I--earlier, you said you'd come to help--"

"Right," Jensen sighed. "Look, it's not my thing to tell, and honestly, maybe she'll change her mind now that you're here, so it probably wouldn't hurt for you to ask her."

"Okay," Jared said. "I guess I can ask, if you want."

"This has got to be really odd for you, all of this, so don't worry about it, all right?" Jensen crammed the last of the toast into his mouth and drained his mug. "If she's ducking me, I might as well play along." He eyed Jared speculatively. "Has anyone shown you round? I love Gran to death, but she forgets how big this place is. I was lost for months before I sorted it all out. I could give you the tour, if you'd like."

Jared was supposed to be focused on finding whatever it was that was waiting around to be found in the library, but he didn't think he could turn down doing _anything_ with Jensen. Plus, he told himself, he needed to know his way around the place and it'd look weird to say no, so he nodded, and didn't bother about whether he sounded cool or not. "Yeah, sure, that'd be great."

***

Even with Jensen, Jared gave up trying to remember all the rooms. There was the library, of course, and the drawing room where they'd had tea the day before. The Great Hall was hard to miss, what with the arches and the wall of glassed-in doors and the balcony that ran around the room with statues and stuff on it--Jensen rattled off who everybody was in the statues, and Jared couldn't help but get a little thrill when the dude who looked like he was going to step out onto an island turned out to be Captain Joshua St. Edmund himself. Jared tried not to let on that he knew who the old guy was, but Jensen noticed him staring.

"You have to ask Gran to tell you about him," Jensen said, laughing quietly. "He built this place, and he's in all the local history books, but she just calls him the old pirate and goes on about his less-than-honorable career on the high seas."

Jared nodded and they moved on. He was good with finding his bedroom, but other than that, he got a little lost among the morning room and the blue room and the rose room and the Captain's study and Lady Frances's office and way too many other rooms that he had no idea about. Ending up in the kitchen was a relief; at least he knew what the room was for, even if it was ten times bigger than any kitchen he'd ever seen, big enough that it had two fireplaces and a stove the size of a small bedroom, and a wooden table that could have seated everybody in the last two group homes he'd lived in at the same time.

Jensen could have made fun of his confusion, but he only smiled--and not in a mean way. "It'll get easier, even if you do get lost a couple of times."

"I hope so," Jared said, meaning every word, because there were a couple of hallways on the third floor that looked exactly the same but took you to totally different parts of the house, and he could already tell he was going to try for the kitchen and end up wandering around aimlessly at least once or twice.

"C'mon," Jensen said, grabbing a handful of dark red raspberries out of a colander and passing them over to Jared. "You might as well get lost outside as well."

The berries stained Jared's hands and mouth, but they were sweet-tart and so juicy he didn't care if he had to sandblast his skin to get it clean again. He forgot and wiped his hands off on his pants, but he hated them anyway. Jensen, of course, managed to eat as many of the berries without a single incriminating stain anywhere.

Outside it was quiet and still, at least at first. Jared had lived all his life in LA; he was used to city noise but after a while, he started hearing things like chickens and geese--"Nasty things," Jensen said, with a scowl. "Bite you just as soon as look at you."--and then the quieter sounds of birds and even the wind slipping through the leaves on all the shrubbery. As they headed around a corner, three dogs came running up, all but dancing for Jensen's attention, but more than happy to transfer some of their energy to Jared.

Jared was on the ground, wrestling with two of them when Lady Frances found them to tell him that his clothes had arrived, and he snapped back to reality. The dogs were awesome and Jensen was cool, but Jared had work to do.

***

Jared waited and listened that night, staying in his room until it was quiet, and when he ventured down the hallway to the stairs, he couldn't see any lights on anywhere. He had the built-in excuse that he couldn't sleep so he thought he'd see if he could find a book to read, but he didn't want to call any unnecessary attention to the him or the library.

There were still as many books as he remembered on the shelves--so much for hoping that it had only been his brain trying to make things worse--but there was nothing to do but start going through them all. He worked as quickly as he could, going shelf by shelf and shaking each book over the table to see if anything fell out. It was cold in the room, and the heavy wooden chairs weren't especially comfortable, but at least it helped keep him awake. The clock in the Great Hall chimed every fifteen minutes, playing a little bit more of its song each time and then starting over after it bonged out the new hour. Every time, he reminded himself he had a long way to go, but at five o'clock, he finally gave up and grabbed an armload of books from the next shelf and settled on the cushioned window seat, promising himself that it was only for a minute or two before almost immediately falling asleep.

The clock striking six jolted him awake right as the sun was rising. He rubbed at his eyes, furious at himself for falling asleep, while the light from the sun streamed through the tall, narrow window at his back and threw shadows on the opposite wall. He almost missed it--would have missed it if he hadn't been looking up at the top shelf, where his next set of books were to come from--but there above the shelves was the next clue. They'd all thought it would be _in_ a book, but in letters picked out by the sun blazing through the stained glass that topped the window at his back, the shadows spelled out _The paths of glory lead but to the grave_.

Jared had no idea what it meant, but it was there and he'd found it and that was all he cared about.

***

The adrenaline rush from finding the clue--plus another super-hot, super-fast bath--carried Jared through breakfast. Lady Frances knocked on his door right as he pulled on one of the three shirts he had that he didn't hate, saying that she'd come to fetch him because her office was too much of a mess to eat there again and she didn't want him wondering around starving while he tried to find the food. Jared hoped he didn't look like a complete idiot, but he couldn't help thinking that it was probably the first time in his life that somebody actually _cared_ whether he ate or not. Most of his foster parents hadn't been evil or anything, but if he wasn't there for a meal, he wasn't there and there was more for everyone else, end of story.

Jensen appeared as they went down some back staircase that Jared didn't remember seeing before, stumbling and bleary-eyed, and every inch not a morning person. Jared didn't think that he'd ever been one himself, but he'd woken up at dawn two mornings in a row and he didn't feel all that bad about it.

Jared got his bearings again as they headed toward the front of the house, and even figured out they were going to the morning room right before they got there. It was sunny and bright, which made Jensen squinch up his eyes and mumble something about forgetting his sunglasses.

"Pay no attention to him, Jared," Lady Frances said. "He's unfit for human companionship until well into the morning." Jensen glowered, but flopped down into a chair and filled his plate with relative speed.

They ate on a table laid out with plates and cups and saucers that Jared could tell were old enough to be antiques. He managed not to break anything, but it was close a couple of times. Lady Frances waved off his apologies after he set his cup down a little too hard in its saucer, and Jensen woke up enough to agree with her. Jared still tried to move more carefully.

After they were through, Jensen, who'd woken up enough to communicate in full sentences rather than the occasional mumbled word, said, "We did the house yesterday; I thought we could go out on the grounds today. Maybe walk to the village."

Jared was about to agree when Lady Frances said, "Perhaps not the village today--Jared and I have an appointment later this morning."

"We do?" Jared asked, hoping like hell it wasn't Rosenbaum, even though he'd found the next clue. He just didn't want to see the guy.

"The company that processes DNA samples is sending someone to collect ours," Lady Frances said quietly. "I've contacted my daughter's husband's family, and his brother is going to also provide a sample."

"Oh." Jared hoped he sounded more interested rather than guilty, but all he could think was that the clock was really ticking now and he'd better get on with finding the treasure before Lady Frances threw him out on his ass. "Um, okay? What time should I be back?"

"Half-past eleven, and they've assured me that it's quite painless. Not a needle in sight, merely a swab."

"I'll have him back in plenty of time, Gran," Jensen said, and they went out the glass door onto the stone patio that ran across the back of the house on that side. "It's a legal thing," he said to Jared. "She'll need it for custody and all."

"Yeah," Jared said, a little light-headed at the thought of custody. "Of course."

Jensen looked at him a little strangely but didn't say anything else. He took Jared around by the vegetable garden and where there were chickens and ducks, and then out to where the manicured lawns gave way to trees and showed him where the blackberry bushes grew wild.

"They won't be ripe for a bit," Jensen said, holding up a long brambled branch that was heavy with still-green fruit. "But nothing's better than coming down and eating them straight off the bush, even if you do end up getting scratched all over."

Jared nodded, but the dogs found them before he could answer, and he lost the rest of the morning to playing with them. He didn't have a ball to throw, but they were happy enough with the sticks he and Jensen found. After a bit, Jensen stood off to the side and watched him play, finally saying, "We need to be back, sorry."

"Right," Jared said, throwing the sticks one last time. "They're really friendly."

"You're good with them," Jensen said. "If they don't like someone, you really know it."

"I had this friend, back in LA, and he always had this mutt trailing around after him even when he--even when he went to work." Jared managed to change direction before he said anything about what Chad did for a living; he was a little breathless from playing with the dogs, so he hoped Jensen put his hiccup down to that. "I used to play with him--the dog, I mean--when I wasn't at school."

They were coming up to the door that led into the kitchen and pantry, so Jensen only had time to nod before Mrs. Priory came to wave them in and tell Jared everyone was waiting for him up in the drawing room.

Jensen took him up there, but then said something about giving everyone some privacy and disappeared as soon as Jared opened the door. Lady Frances was already there, of course, along with three or four others. Jared took a deep breath and went in. It turned out to be not a big deal at all--just one of the ladies there taking a swab of the inside of his cheek--except for how it made Jared conscious of every second ticking away and how he had to figure things out, _fast_.

As soon as they were finished with him, Jared went back to the library, slipping inside the door as quietly as he could and staring up at the wall where the shadows had cast the next clue.

"The paths of glory lead but to the grave," he muttered. "Yeah, and what's that supposed to mean."

"Well, if you take it the way they always want you to in class, probably that Gray had the sudden realization that it didn't matter who you were, you still died," Jensen said from the corner where he'd been stretched out across a couple of the big wooden chairs, a stack of books at his elbow.

"Gray?" Jared repeated, wincing at how fucking _stupid_ he sounded.

"Thomas Gray," Jensen said. "You know, _Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard_ … The poem you were quoting?"

"Oh." Jared nodded, like he knew what Jensen was talking about. "Yeah, right. I'm really bad with poetry."

Jensen closed his eyes for a second, then murmured,

_The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,  
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,   
Awaits alike th' inevitable hour.  
The paths of glory lead but to the grave._

"Right, right," Jared said. "I remember now." He clamped down on the excitement that bubbled up inside him. "It was, you know, we were studying it, back home, right before I left. Must have gotten stuck in my head. Thanks."

He backed out of the door and ran up the steps to his room, muttering over and over again, "Thomas Gray, Thomas Gray, Thomas Gray, elegy written in a country courtyard, elegy, elegy, elegy," and when he got to his room his hands were shaking as he pulled out a paper and pencil and wrote it all down. Later that night, he would go back to the library and see if he could find any books by the guy, but first, he really, _really_ needed a nap.

***

Jared slept, but restlessly. He jolted awake every fifteen minutes, one bad dream chasing after another, everything from Chad looking at him in betrayal, his t-shirt bloody and ripped, to Lady Frances sitting at her desk crying, to Jensen walking away no matter how loud Jared called to him. Jeffrey knocking on the door and telling him there was a call for him was almost a relief, even though Jared knew it had to be Rosy.

Jeffrey showed him where the phone was in one of the drawing rooms, and left him alone. Jared still felt like the guy was keeping an eye on him, but it wasn't like he shouldn't have been. He took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

"Well, now, aren't we the little lord of the manor. You know how hard it was to get through to you?" Rosy's voice came blasting out at Jared like they were in the same room. "I sure as hell hope you haven't forgotten why you're really there, kid."

"Hey," Jared said. "I've only been here two days; give it a rest already. Anyway, I got the next clue. If you'd shut up, I could tell you that." He waited while Rosy bitched and moaned about his attitude, and then told him about how the rising sun had outlined the words. "It's from a poem, a famous one," Jared added.

"Yeah? Glad to hear my educational tax dollars aren't going to waste," Rosy said. "But I ain't seen any gold yet, so the rest of my money, the stuff I spent on _you_ still isn't showing me anything yet."

"Like I said, give it a rest. I'm going back to the library tonight," Jared said. "You got anything else you need to yell at me about?"

"Watch the smart mouth," Rosy said, and hung up.

"Watch the smart mouth," Jared mimicked, putting the phone back down in the cradle. "Jerk."

"Jared?" Lady Frances stood in the doorway, looking at him quizzically. "Did you say something?"

"No, ma'am." Jared put on his best innocent face. "I was just talking to Mr. Rosenbaum. He called to make sure I got all my clothes and things."

"Yes, Jeffrey said he'd rung." Lady Frances had the coolest way of completely dismissing something, even while she was being polite; Jared wanted to know how she did it. It would come in handy, he was sure. "I came to see if you'd like to come for a walk with me, see some of the countryside."

Jared was still pretty tired, but he figured he could keep up with someone who was a foot shorter and at least 60 years older than he was, so he agreed, and followed Lady Frances down to the kitchen to collect some stale bread before going outside.

They cut across the lawn and walked down to the pond, and she shared out some of the bread so he could throw it to the ducks and geese. It only took a few seconds for them to clean him out.

"Greedy things," Lady Frances said. "You'd think we starved them." She shooed them away and led Jared around the pond. "Jensen's never liked them much."

"Yeah," Jared answered. "I noticed." He took a deep breath and tried to sound casual. "So, um, about Jensen… He's been really nice, but I don't--Is he related to you?"

"Oh, distantly," Lady Frances said. "His mother is the daughter of a cousin of a cousin, married to an engineer of some sort. They've been out of the country for decades now. Saudi Arabia, Sri Lanka--I can't even begin to keep up with it all. Jensen wrote to me years ago, the most charming letter for a little boy. It was his first year at school, and he had nowhere to go for Christmas. I could hardly turn him away and then we got along tolerably well--he wasn't bored out of his mind with the old lady and I wasn't driven to distraction--and I invited him again for Easter holidays and before I knew it Mrs. Priory was making plans on how to best feed him up and it was quite nice to have a young person around the house."

They'd made their way out along the stream that fed the pond and Jared looked back at the house, hardly believing that he'd actually been living in some place that looked like that, even if he had scammed his way in. When he looked back, Lady Frances was smiling at him. "It's a really nice house," Jared said, feeling stupid, because, duh, no kidding. "It looks like it belongs there."

"On the tours that we give sometimes, they talk about the architectural significance of it all, and how the gardens and lawns were planned at the same time as the building--which is all very well and good, but I think they miss the part about how it's very homely." Lady Frances shielded her eyes with one hand and looked back at the house. "It's been in the family for generations; we've put our stamp on it, as families do."

"I don't know a whole lot about families," Jared said, without thinking. "I--it's just been me, you know?" Lady Frances looked upset, and she shouldn't be. It wasn't her fault; it was just the way it was. "It's okay; I'm pretty good at taking care of myself."

"I can see that you are," Lady Frances said. "But if there's anything I can do to help, you must feel free to ask."

Jared nodded, like he was thinking about it, which of course he wasn't, because as nice as she was, Jared knew how the world worked, and he was the only person he could count on. The way she offered, though, that made it easy to ask his next question.

"Does that go the other way, too?" Jared asked. "If there's anything _I_ can do to help, you should ask me? Because I know there's something going on, but nobody's really said anything, and--"

"Oh," Lady Frances said. "Yes. Yes, there is something going on, as you put it…" They'd climbed to the top of a little hill--the land around the house was rolling, with lots of gentle hills and valleys--and she turned back and looked at the house in the distance. "It's a wonderful house, but I think it's time to let it go. It costs a fortune in upkeep and maintenance, and I'm not doing it justice." She turned back and smiled at Jared, but even only knowing her for a week, Jared could tell it wasn't a real smile. "The lovely people at the National Trust will take care of it, do all the fixes to the plumbing, and make it so there aren't gales in the upper hallways in the winter."

"So, you're selling it?" Jared couldn't keep the note of panic out of his voice. If the house was sold before he found the treasure, he was _screwed_, and so was Chad.

"Yes, but I don't want you to worry," Lady Frances said. "It's not for a bit; at least a month and we'll be quite all right. We won't be destitute, just not living on such a grand scale, perhaps."

Jared took a deep breath and let it trickle out slowly while he nodded. All this meant was that he _had_ to find the next clue. _Fast_. That wasn't anything new. He knew what he needed to do: remember why he was at the house in the first place.

"I'm okay," he said. "But I guess you should probably show me everything you want me to see, now. Just in case."

"I think that's a splendid idea," she said, and started off across the fields again.

 

***

Jensen found him in the library a couple of hours later, flat out on his back on one of the long tables.

"Everything all right here?"

"I--yeah." Jared waved. It was a pretty pathetic wave. "It was supposed to be a nice walk with a--don't be offended--a little old lady."

Jensen laughed. "She does look harmless, doesn't she?"

"We walked like, miles and miles, and she never slowed down. How does she _do_ that?"

"I haven't the foggiest." Jensen went over to where there were a bunch of framed pictures and brought one back to show Jared. "But she's always been like that, I think."

The picture was old, blurred and grainy and black-and-white, but it was easy enough to recognize a much younger Lady Frances, probably not any older than Jensen, standing in a muddy field with a bunch of men twice her size, everyone wearing uniforms.

"During the War," Jensen said. "I think it's somewhere near the coast; she was a searchlight operator for the big anti-aircraft guns."

"Okay," Jared said. "That's pretty cool. I mean, I didn't know women did that back then, but I guess it doesn't surprise me that she did it."

"No," Jensen agreed. "It really isn't surprising at all."

***

Jared asked Lady Frances about the poem, and she went into the library and got him an autographed copy of it. He told her the same story that he'd told Jensen, that he'd been studying it in school--which was such a joke, like he'd done anything other than sleep in school--but he guessed it sounded okay if you didn't really know him. He stayed up late into the night, going through the whole thing word by word, but didn't find anything that looked good. The next two nights he fell asleep early, worn out from helping Jensen move trunks and boxes and he didn't even know what else down from the attics.

He made himself stay up after that, waited again until the house settled into quiet not long before midnight. He snuck down to the library as quietly as he could and started going through the whole place again. He found a lot of books of poetry; most of them had the one he was looking for, so he dragged them all upstairs and settled in the chair to go through them, too.

He didn't know why he'd thought the countryside was quiet. Now that he'd lived there for a little while, there was always something making noise, and it wasn't like the city, a constant hum of traffic and horns and people. No, here it was birds and frogs and crickets and the stupid bell in the church on the other side of the stream. It was making him crazy--well, crazier, because re-reading the churchyard poem for the hundredth time was already doing a number on his brain.

He went to close his window, leaning out to pull the casement closed and maybe block out a little of the bells when it suddenly struck him that he was _looking_ at a country churchyard, and maybe he'd been going about finding the next clue all wrong. Maybe it _wasn't_ in a book after all, he thought, stuffing his feet into his sneakers and grabbing a flashlight. There was a shortcut that went across the fields, but he stuck to the road because the last thing he needed was to end up with a twisted ankle or something for trying to save a couple of minutes.

It was pitch dark out on the road, no light but what came from the quarter moon skimming in and out of the high, wispy clouds, but the flashlight he'd liberated from the kitchen was strong enough to pick out the road in front of him without much trouble. The church didn't have any lights, either, and the gate in the wrought-iron fence around the little graveyard squealed when he pushed it open. He barely got two steps inside the gate when an owl screeched from its perch on top of the mausoleum and almost gave him a heart attack.

"Jeez, Jared," he said out loud, just to hear something normal. "Jumpy much?"

He swept the flashlight around, picking out stone crosses and angels and lots of plain markers, and told himself it was no big deal, standing alone on a graveyard in the middle of the night, even if it probably would have been smarter to have waited until the morning. Seeing would have been a whole lot easier, for one thing. The light flashed across a big stone, the biggest one so far, and he started off, zigzagging through the markers to look at it. Right as he got close enough to confirm what he'd expected, _Captain Joshua St. Edmund_ carved in bold letters on the stone, something grabbed him from behind.

"Hey," he yelled, and a hand clamped down over his mouth.

"Shut up," hissed a voice that Jared managed to recognize as Rosenbaum even over the wild pounding of his pulse in his ears. "Do you want the whole damn house coming down on us?"

"No, but give a guy a little warning next time," Jared said. "Grabbing people in graveyards isn't exactly a great way to guarantee quiet."

"You want a warning?" Rosenbaum snarled. "How about the one about double-crossing me, feeding me a line of shit about a poem when you're out nosing around in a real churchyard." His fingers tightened in Jared's hair, keeping him still. "You remember what happens if we don't find what we're here for."

"Yeah, yeah," Jared panted, proud that his voice was steady, because there was no way he was giving Rosy the satisfaction of knowing he'd scared Jared. "People end up in dumpsters; I got it." He twisted away, hissing as what felt like half his hair stayed wrapped around Rosy's fingers, and then slammed hard into Tommy. "I'm not double-crossing anybody. I went through all the poetry books in that library--and thanks for the heads-up about how big that place actually is--and wasn't finding anything."

Jared stepped back enough that he wasn't being quite so crowded. "The church bell was ringing and I thought, y'know, what if it wasn't in a book after all."

"Lucky for us, we got here right in time to see you sneak out," Rosenbaum said, and Jared shrugged.

"Yeah, well, I just found the old guy's grave," Jared said, pointing with the flashlight. Rosy and Tommy both put their lights on the stone, too, nice and bright and clear that there was nothing there either. "Shit," he muttered.

"Secretive old bastard," Rosy said.

"Maybe the clue's really _in_ the churchyard, like buried in it," Jared said. "We could always dig him up."

"Dig him up?" Tommy said, in a high nervous voice. "Like, open the _grave_?"

"Yeah, sure--" Jared started to say, for no reason other than egging Tommy on, when the stupid owl screeched again. Jared jumped, and so did Rosy, but Tommy gave a little scream and tripped over his feet. He sprawled out, still squawking, and Jared helpfully added, "Hey, look, you're laying on top of some poor dude's grave."

Tommy shrieked again, and Rosy smacked the back of Jared's head and shoved him out of the way to go help Tommy stand up. "There's that attitude again, and I'm reaching the end of my patience, kid."

"Yeah?" Jared said, distracted by the headstone right where Tommy had fallen, the one right next to Captain Joshua's. It was one of the small, plain markers, a simple slab of granite for a seaman by the name of Thomas Gray. Jared gave a little whoop. "Check it out!" He pointed his flashlight to the marker and followed the arc of the name. "Thomas Gray. In a country churchyard!"

Rosy dropped Tommy right back down and whirled around to look. "I'll be goddamned. That sneaky old bastard had it all planned out. _Thomas Gray_," he read. "_ He followed the eclipse for riches and fame; and, if ye would prosper, do ye the same._"

"Do you think that's the clue?" Tommy asked from where he was still on the ground and Jared couldn't help but roll his eyes. Tommy must be aces in bed, he thought, because why else would Rosy to be putting up with him.

"Yeah," Rosy said, picking Tommy back up again and then grabbing Jared. "I think it's the clue, and I think our little princeling here needs to get his ass in gear and go through that house, top to bottom, and find out anything about an eclipse that he can."

He gave Jared a little shake. "Once we get a hotel someplace, I'll be checking in on you, kid, so don't think you have any time to waste."

"A hotel? Aren't you going back to London?"

"Not with how much he owes the bookies," Tommy said, in a prim little voice. Rosy's hand dug into Jared's arm hard enough to leave bruises; Jared set his jaw so he wouldn't make any noise.

"Let's just say it's healthier for all of us if we stay down here," Rosy said, shoving Jared away from him. "You better get back before they find out you're gone. And don't forget, we'll be watching."

Jared turned around without saying anything and struck out across the fields. He didn't care if he did fall into the stream; anything was better than being out on the same road with the other two. He almost didn't mind running into Jeffrey and the dogs as he came out of the little bunch of trees near the back door. Almost. Because holy hell, but that guy could move quietly, and he somehow even had the dogs quiet, too.

"Oh," Jared panted. "Hey. I was--out looking at the stars. It's dark here. I can see stuff I never could back home." It didn't sound too lame, he thought. And it was almost true. If he had the time, he'd do stuff like go look at the stars and read and maybe even take Jensen up on teaching Jared how to fish.

"Careful," Jeffrey said, as the dogs tripped Jared up. He reached out a hand and caught him as he stumbled. "Use the light next time. You won't be waking anyone up with it."

"Right," Jared said, standing up as fast as he could. "Sure. I'm, I'm just going to go on to bed."

 

***

It took Jared a long time to fall asleep; his brain kept racing, cycling through the clue on the tombstone and Jeffrey being out waiting for him, with the occasional flash of uneasiness that Rosy and Tommy were staying in the area. London wasn't all that far away, only a couple of hours, but it had felt better to think about them there rather than wonder when they might show up again. He finally made himself listen to the night sounds of the country until everything blended together and he fell asleep.

It was gray and a little rainy when he woke up, a lot later than he'd done before, but that was probably a good thing. Nobody was around--Jensen was probably still asleep--but when Jared found his way down to the kitchen, Mrs. Priory had a huge plate of bacon and sausages in the oven for him, and she fried him eggs while he put bread in the toaster. She even had coffee from a fancy coffeemaker instead of tea, and she told him that Lady Frances had gone out for some kind of a meeting about the local church.

"A jumble sale, that's what they're working on," she said. "Lord knows we can send some things along for that."

Jensen came in then, his hair still damp from the shower, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up over strong forearms. Mrs. Priory went off to assemble his plate, and Jared shared his coffee, even though Jensen made a face and muttered things about ruining perfectly good Kona with sugar and milk.

"It probably wouldn't take you too long to make your own," Jared said, managing to tear his eyes away from how Jensen hadn't shaved, the scruff on his jaw and chin adding the slightest hint of roughness to his face. He reached over like was going to take the mug away from Jensen, but he couldn't keep a straight face at the faint look of panic in Jensen's eyes.

Mrs. Priory came back over with Jensen's plate, tsking at him for stealing Jared's coffee and bringing him some of his own. She eyed Jared's mug and got him more, too, and then left them at the table to go fuss about with the dishes and whatever smelled amazing in the oven.

Jared waited patiently while Jensen worked his way through his breakfast, but before Jensen even got to his second mug of coffee, there was a muffled thud, and Mrs. Priory jumped back from where the taps on the deep clay sink were spraying water.

"Stupid thing," she said, holding up a pot lid to block the spray while she fumbled with the taps. Jared jumped up and grabbed a towel, which at least cut down on the mess. "Jensen," she called. "Run fetch Jeffrey and tell him to bring the tool box."

"Jeffrey?" Jensen said doubtfully. "Really?"

"Well, better him than the two of you," Mrs. Priory said, shaking her head. Jared couldn't argue with her there.

Apparently Jensen couldn't either, because he headed out the door toward the garage apartment while Jared found another tea towel and double-wrapped the spray and Mrs. Priory started mopping up the mess.

It turned out Mrs. Priory mostly needed Jeffrey to man the wrenches. Once he got the water turned off, he loosened and tightened things under her direction while Jensen was sent to fetch an old bicycle tire and Jared kept the kitchen from being hosed down. In the end, they cut up the inner tube from the tire and clamped it to the part that was leaking. They all held their breath while they turned the water back on, but the patch held and Mrs. Priory shooed them out of her kitchen with an enormous cake in a tin and some fizzy lemonade as their reward.

"Well, that was exciting," Jensen said, dropping down on the bench by the pond.

"You never know what's going to go wrong next," Jeffrey said. "All due respect to Mrs. Priory, but we're going to have to call a plumber in."

"Not that I disagree, but I nominate you to tell Gran." Jensen wrenched the top off the cake tin and shared it around. "She still thinks I'm eight, like the first time I came to visit."

"Right." Jeffrey snorted, and it was the most animated Jared had ever seen him. "By that reckoning--"

"Which is true and you know it," Jensen interrupted. Jeffrey shrugged.

"--I'm round about fifteen, so it's not as though I'm all that much ahead of you."

Jared took a cautious sip of the lemonade. It was sweet-sour, but the cake was lemony, too, and he decided they went pretty okay together.

"Has it always been like this?" Jared asked. "It's just, it doesn't look bad." To his surprise, it was Jeffrey who answered.

"It's an old house; things are always going to need a little work, but for a while there, it wasn't much of a priority."

"After the accident," Jensen added quietly, and Jared kept his eyes on the cake in his hand. Every day he was here, it got harder and harder to remember what he needed to do.

***

The next morning was odd and off-kilter. Lady Frances had meetings all day with the people from the National Trust; she came to breakfast but she was preoccupied and not at all her usual self. Mrs. Priory fussed and poked and prodded, but couldn't get her to eat more than some toast and tea, and she excused herself not long after to go start reading through the reams of paperwork that went along with turning a house over.

The rest of the day was more normal--they had one last section of the attic to haul things out of, and after that they ended up outside between the vegetable and herb gardens, kicking around a soccer ball.

If Jared was going to mess around with a ball, his first choice was going to be basketball, but as awesome as the house was, it didn't have a court, or even a hoop, and it wasn't like he hadn't spent years skipping school and booting a ball around if that was what was going on. It wasn't Jensen's first sport--apparently he spent a lot of time rowing--but he'd played off and on and was cool about teaching Jared some moves. If anyone had asked him before, Jared would have sworn he couldn't have cared whether he ever learned to pass properly, but every time Jensen stopped to show him something he found himself paying attention like it was going to be his meal ticket.

"I was thinking," Jensen said, dribbling the ball past Jared. "It's Mrs. Priory's afternoon off and Gran's not going to want to do much other than have a tray in her room after all this, so maybe you want to go down to the village with me? Have dinner at the pub?"

"Oh, uh, that sounds great, but, I'm--I only have a couple of bucks, American money--"

"No, no," Jensen said, firm and sure. "My treat."

"Then, yeah," Jared said, neatly intercepting the ball and spinning around so Jensen couldn't see the absolutely stupid expression he knew was on his face. "That'd be cool, thanks."

"Nothing fancy," Jensen warned. "Chicken curry, if we're lucky."

Jared barely kept from laughing--like he _cared_ what he ate, even before you got around to the part where it'd just be him and Jensen--and tried a complicated crossover kick that took Jensen by surprise and focused attention on something that was normal and unremarkable, rather than how excited Jared was.

They hung out back by the gardens until they heard the cars leaving, and by the time they got back inside, Lady Frances was already on her way up the big sweeping staircase.

"Have I mentioned how little fondness I have for solicitors?" she asked.

"Once or twice," Jensen said, with a straight face. "Possibly."

"Well, it's done for now, and I don't intend to leave my room again today--

"Cold gin and a hot bath?"

"Oh, my dear." Lady Frances smiled at Jensen. "I've taught you well. You'll be all right on your own tonight?"

"Never better," Jensen assured her. "We're heading down to the pub. Emma will find something for us."

"I've no doubt," Lady Frances answered. "Do have a nice time, Jared, and I promise I shall be in a much less prickly mood when I see you again."

"Good night," Jared called, and she waved to him as she disappeared down the hall. "Will she be okay?" he asked Jensen.

"I think this is taking more of a toll on her than she expected," Jensen said, shaking his head. "Not that she wouldn't bite my head off for so much as suggesting that."

They split up after that, to get cleaned up and changed. Jared stood around for a while, trying to figure out what to wear--he hated most of the clothes Tommy had gotten for him, but the stuff he'd had in LA wasn't great either. He didn't want to look like he was trying too hard, but Jensen always looked good, even when they were hauling crap out of the attic. In the end, he got the one pair of pants he had that weren't jeans or part of the stupid suit, and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to hide where they were already getting too short for him.

Hoping he didn't look like too much of a dork, he stuffed his feet into his sneakers (not even for Jensen was he going to wear the shoes that went with the suit) and hurried down the stairs. Jensen was waiting for him outside, leaning on the front of Lady Frances's Range Rover. Jared was glad he'd taken the time with his clothes, because Jensen was as neatly dressed as ever.

"It's no more than a couple of minutes down to the pub, but I'm too lazy to walk down tonight," Jensen said, getting into the driver's seat.

"I'm not going to argue," Jared said. "I think we've moved every box in that house five times already."

It really wasn't more than two minutes before they were passing the War Memorial and pulling up in front of the white building that housed the lone pub in the village. Jared looked around curiously, because he still hadn't quite made it all the way down to the village yet, and he'd been distracted by nerves and Rosy's foul mood when they'd driven through on the way to the house that first day. For being so small, it looked like a nice place to live.

"We can walk down in the day, if you like," Jensen called, waiting at the door while Jared looked around. "See it when it's not going dark."

"Yeah, sure," Jared answered, and followed Jensen inside, where it was loud and friendly and the girl behind the bar came out front as soon as she got a look at them.

"Oh my God, it's about time you got yourself down here," she said, loud enough for the whole bar to here. She didn't look much older than Jensen, tall-ish and a little heavy, with dark hair and a diamond nose stud and snapping black eyes. She wasn't pretty, not exactly, but her smile was big and infectious.

"Emma," Jensen said, which wasn't a surprise. Jared wanted to hate her, but she was loud and funny and every other word seemed to be a curse word--he thought her mouth might even be worse than Chad's--and he couldn't help but like her.

She got Jensen a pint cider and found ice for Jared's Coke and pointed them to a table in the corner, promising them plates of chicken curry as soon as she could get a chance, gossiping nonstop the whole time. Jared was pretty sure she never once took a breath and her accent was strong enough that he could barely understand her, but he caught her looking at him with sharp, inquisitive eyes even after they'd gotten to the table. It was easy enough to guess that she knew why he was staying with Lady Frances.

"Everybody knows everybody else's business here," Jensen said quietly. "And everybody knows Gran."

"It's--I'm really not used to people being interested in me," Jared said after a bit. Even as tall as he was, he was good at fading into the background. It was a good skill to have; it meant fewer hassles with teachers and social workers and general do-gooders. He didn't really want to explain that to Jensen, though, so he was relieved when something happened in the game that was showing on the ancient TV over the bar and distracted everyone.

The curry was good--hot as hell and lots of it--and gradually everyone stopped looking at Jared and he could relax. People still came over to talk to Jensen, and he always introduced Jared, and everyone nodded politely, but they left it there and nobody so much as blinked when the two of them drifted back to watch the guys playing what Jared assumed was pool, but Jensen called snooker. When Jensen asked, Jared admitted he'd only heard of it once or twice, had never seen it, and had definitely never played it. He left out the part where he'd been playing nine-ball since he was old enough to hold a cue stick, though. He paid attention while Jensen ran down the rules, and fixed the scoring and colors firmly in his mind.

The table was a little bit smaller than a standard pool table, but the balls weighed about the same and it only took him a half a game to adjust. It was too late to really do anything but lose the first game, but after that, he cleaned up.

"Right," Jensen said at the end of the third game, when Jared had all but run the table. "So, we're not doing that again unless we're playing on the same team."

"Any time," Jared said, grinning. He shook hands with a couple of the guys who'd been standing around watching, while Jensen settled up their bill. Outside it was dark, and the main street of the village was quiet as they walked back to the car. Jared looked up at the night sky, a million stars shining down, more than he'd ever seen before. As much as he didn't want to ruin the vibe of the night, he probably wasn't going to get a better chance, so he swallowed hard and asked, as casually as he could, if Jensen had ever seen an eclipse when he'd been around the area.

"No," Jensen answered, following Jared's lead and looking up at the sky. "It'd be a good place to see one, though."

"Yeah, I was just thinking that," Jared said, still casual. "You don't see stars like this in LA."

"I don't expect you would," Jensen said, comfortably. They were already turning off onto the road that cut through Lady Frances's property.

"Thanks," Jared said. "That was--I had a good time."

"I did, too," Jensen said, smiling, and Jared gave up trying to pretend he wasn't totally fucking crushing on the guy. There was no use denying it. He'd fallen for one of the people he was trying to con, and wasn't that the stupidest thing ever? He trudged up the stairs behind Jensen, telling himself that over and over, but then Jensen smiled at him again, wishing him a good night, and nothing else mattered.

***

In the morning, Jensen asked Mrs. Priory about eclipses and if she'd ever seen one. Jared got a little jolt of guilt that he'd dragged Jensen into the whole lying mess, but covered it up well enough. He hoped. He jumped in and said he'd found a book about astronomy (which was true--the library had at least a half-dozen different ones) and he and Jensen had been talking about it the night before. It was all too much, he knew that as soon as the words left his mouth, but nobody else seemed to notice. Mrs. Priory thought for a bit, but finally came forth with never having seen such in the area. Jared even got brave and asked Jeffrey, but that was a bust, too, so Jared didn't see much else to do other than start going through the house.


	4. Chapter 4

Jared got used to sleeping for only a couple of hours at a time so that he could search in the dead of the night while everyone else was asleep. He spent three nights in the Captain's study, sure that he would find _something_ there, but came up empty and finally moved on.

Every night he expected somebody to catch him, and every time the phone rang he was sure it was going to be Rosy, which made him jumpy enough that he had a dozen fake stories in his head, so many that he never would have gotten the right one out if anything had happened--but he was still happier than he'd ever been.

Almost every morning he found himself awake early enough to eat breakfast with Lady Frances, and when he got the nerve to ask her, she told him stories about her family and the house. Jared didn't even pretend to himself that he was doing it to get in good with a mark; he just liked hearing them, even if he knew she thought she was telling him about his own family. He helped her pack things up, a little every morning, working quietly until Jensen managed to wake up and came and found them so he and Jared could take the dogs out for a run.

"I'm so pleased you've made friends with Jensen," Lady Frances told him. "He's always been so reserved. A lovely boy, and young man, but quite shy. You seem to have the knack of bringing him out of himself."

One morning Jared asked her if she minded having to leave, and she smiled and said she regretted a lot of things, but no thing, not even a house was worth being sad about. He thought she meant it and didn't mean it at the same time, as though she was trying to convince herself of what she was saying, too.

"I have the most darling little mews house off Brompton Road," she'd said. "We'll be a little cramped there, but I expect I'll get a socking good price on it--I've had it since before the war--and we'll find something that will suit us quite well."

Jared wanted to tell her not to worry about selling her London house (Jensen was really good about translating things; Jared might have figured out Brompton Road was in London, but he'd never have gotten that a mews house was a little townhouse-type place, converted from what had originally been the carriage house and quarters for the stable hands who worked for the main house on the other side of the alley), because he wouldn't be around for much longer, but if he did that, he was toast.

He started to have that conversation with Jensen once, because every day he hated lying about everything more and more; hated how those lies were messing with everyone around him. As soon as he said he wasn't counting on being around for very long because he didn't think the DNA tests were going to come back the right way, Jensen had shaken his head.

"It's not going to make all that much difference to Gran, you know. Once she takes you in, you're in. If they come back negative, it only means she keeps looking for him, not that she throws you away."

Jared couldn't very well say that she wasn't going to keep being nice to a kid who'd conned her, so he'd just shrugged and changed the subject.

They had a corner in the kitchen where they put the things that Lady Frances wanted to keep when she moved to London. Every time she added something, she'd laugh and say how she needed to stop, how the mews house was already full to the brim, but one day, Jared came through on his way to meet up with Jensen and the dogs and found her sitting at the table, crying.

He stood there like an idiot, not knowing what to do, but as soon as she saw him she shook her head and took a deep breath. "I'm fine, Jared. Just being stupid and sentimental." She waved toward a carved wooden chest. When Jared opened it, he saw it was full of silverware, carved and ornate, and very definitely real silver. "It was a wedding present from my oldest sister, and it's quite hideous and I've never used it other than when she would come for a visit, but the thought of selling it sent me into the flubs."

"Sometimes," Jared said slowly, feeling like the biggest tool alive, but not able to just stand there and say nothing, "it's just the idea of a thing that's the hard part to let go of."

"You're very right," Lady Frances said, sounding much more like herself. "It is absolutely the idea of my dear sister, and her appalling taste, that's going to keep me dragging these ugly things around with me, even if I don't have the room for them and can't bear to look at them on a daily basis."

Jared smiled as she closed the chest with a decisive-sounding snap.

"Now, as you're dressed for some fresh air and romping with the dogs, I'll let you go."

"Well, the dogs and Jensen will wait," Jared said.

"Nonsense," she said. "I shall make myself a cup of tea and get on with more necessary things. Go on, shoo."

"Shoo-ing," Jared said, remembering to close the door quietly behind him, not let it slam shut.

He told Jensen about it, of course, but Jensen only sighed and shook his head. "The only reason she's going through with all this--packing up, turning the house over to the National Trust--is because she's stubborn. The Eighth is going to be furious when he hears about it--he's still a bit aggravated that she's never moved into the Dower House. He'll take it personally, as though she didn't trust him enough to help out, and it's going to be a right mess, but there's no arguing with her."

Jared wondered how much money it might take to make the repairs and run the house, but didn't see much hope. Even if he could find the treasure, he didn't really think Rosy was going to follow through and give him his share, and he didn't suppose anyone would want him around anyway.

***

Every day Jared expected Jensen to have something better to do than hang out with him, but it never happened that way. Jensen went out sometimes, met friends at the pub in the evenings, and one afternoon he left to play tennis at some other house, but the rest of the time he seemed fine just being with Jared. He showed Jared the hiding places he'd made as a kid behind the heavy old furniture in the unused bedrooms on the third floor, and the secret passages he'd found while rambling about the house on rainy days.

"Nothing terribly exciting," Jensen said. "Just some dusty hallways…"

"No, it's cool, come on," Jared answered. "I never thought I'd live any place that had a secret door behind the bookshelves."

Jensen laughed and pulled a dozen books off the shelves, ones he thought Jared might like, and never seemed to care that Jared had pushed his way into his life.

It made Jared's day if he could make Jensen laugh--a real one, not the quiet chuckle that passed for it most of the time. Jensen didn't let him just clown around, though; more than once Jared was on the receiving end of what he could tell was a carefully worded question about his life. Even after Jared was sure that Jensen wasn't trying to trip him up, he reminded himself that it was better not to get too close, no matter how hard it was to keep things distant.

If Jensen had pressed him for answers he probably would have been able to keep to the plan, but Jensen only nodded when Jared did his deflecting act and before he knew it Jared heard himself saying, "When I was ten, the social worker left my file out while I was supposed to be taking some IQ test." It was too late to shut up, so he shrugged. "I read it, of course, because I didn't remember anything from before I was in first grade."

He stopped then, because the next part was hard; he'd never told anyone before. Jensen didn't push, only sat next to Jared until he found his voice again. "It didn't say anything, though. Just that the cops had taken me out of a house when the lady who lived there had a heart attack, and that the neighbors had said she'd showed up with me about a year earlier, saying that the Lord had sent me to her. They thought I was her nephew or something. All they really knew about me was that I didn't talk. Whoever she was, she died, and there wasn't any family, so they called Child Welfare."

"That's a lot to deal with," Jensen said, and again Jared was sure that he was choosing his words with care. "Especially on your own."

"I kinda stopped talking again," Jared said, everything coming out in a rush. "Not really, just, I didn't say a whole lot for a couple of months. I mean, they guessed at how old I was, and the birthday on all my records is the day I went into the system. But then… I don't know. I guess I got used to it? It was better that I knew there wasn't anything in the file. It made it easier to pay attention to what was going on in front of me." He shrugged again. "Does that make sense?"

"Yes," Jensen said, firm and sure and matter-of-fact. "It makes absolute sense." He let Jared change the subject then, and didn't mention it again. Jared thought it might be awkward, knowing that Jensen knew, but it wasn't, not at all.

***

Jensen had a bike that he'd kept at the house for years, and Jeffrey fiddled with another old one so Jared could use it, and Jensen dragged him out one day to ride halfway across the county, it felt. Jared was kind of shaky on a bike--another one of those things you didn't get much chance to practice while you were bouncing around the system--but Jensen was pretty much the definition of laid-back about everything, so Jared went for it. Mrs. Priory packed them enough food to feed an army--seriously, a whole chicken, plus bread and cheese and plums from the tree in the garden and berry turnovers and Jared wasn't even sure what else--and the dogs were thrilled to really stretch out and run.

"I'm going to miss this," Jensen said, leaning back on his elbows and half-closing his eyes.

"Were you planning to come back?" Jared asked. "After you finish college?"

"Maybe," Jensen said. ""It's--I grew up all over the place, and traveling's great, but this is as close to a home base as I've ever had." He sounded lazy and content and Jared wanted him so bad he couldn't think. "I suppose it'd depend who I was with, really. If it was only me, I'd be happy to live here. But I'll probably fall for someone who insists on living in London.

"Is there--" Jared swallowed hard and made himself ask. "You never mentioned anybody, a girlfriend, or anything."

"Well, you know, seeing as I'm gay, definitely no girlfriend," Jensen answered, one corner of his mouth quirking up. "No anything else either."

Jared couldn't say anything for a second or two, long enough that Jensen opened his eyes and sat up. Jared immediately dropped his eyes. "Jared? That's--you didn't know?" Jared managed to shake his head, but his eyes stayed firmly fixed on the ground. Jensen was quiet for another second, then asked, "Is that a problem?"

Jared couldn't help but laugh, because that was so far from the truth, but as soon he did, he knew it was the exact wrong thing to do, and he needed to fix it, no matter how much he didn't want to be the dumb kid trailing around begging for attention.

"I have the biggest crush on you," Jared said quietly. It was easier to get the words out than he thought it would be, but maybe that was because he wasn't looking at Jensen. "I've never--there's never really been…" He shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to screw everything up."

"No, hey--"

"I mean, I know I'm just a kid, and I don't belong here, and you probably don't--"

"Jared," Jensen said, putting his hand on Jared's. "_No_. You haven't screwed anything up." Jared finally got the guts to look up. Jensen smiled at him, a real smile, one that reached his eyes, and Jared couldn't help it, he leaned over and kissed him.

It was a little awkward and a lot rushed, definitely not the best kiss in the world--and if Jared knew that, he didn't want to think about what Jensen thought of it--except for how it _was_, because it was Jensen and he was kissing Jared back, one hand tilting Jared's head a little while the other cupped his shoulder, holding him steady.

They broke apart after a bit, both of them breathless, and Jared's heart was pounding so hard he thought it might jump out of his chest. "Um," he said, sounding like a complete idiot. "I--"

"You haven't screwed anything up," Jensen repeated. "You've only been here a couple of weeks and I can't even remember what it was like not having you around, and I forget how young you are, and…" He shook his head once, and then took Jared's hand, running his thumb lightly over the knuckles. "And this probably isn't a good idea, just because of that."

"I'm not--I've had sex before," Jared said, heat rising in his face enough that he knew he had to be turning bright red, which was probably killing _any_ cool he had, but he didn't want Jensen to think he was corrupting him or anything stupid like that. "With guys and girls, and, and, yeah. It's not--I've just never actually felt like this. About anyone."

"You _are_ really young, though," Jensen said, quiet and steady and as much as Jared wanted to yell that it didn't matter, it did. It did matter, and he knew it and having a tantrum about it was only going to reinforce everything that Jensen was putting out there.

"I won't be for forever," Jared said, not thinking about how he didn't _have_ forever, just staying there, in the moment. It was more than he'd ever expected to have anyway, and he was really good at taking the good for what it was and doing his best to ignore the rest.

"No," Jensen agreed. "You won't. But--"

Whatever Jensen was going to say got cut off by the dogs whining, and the winds shifting to the sudden chill of a storm blowing up, fast.

"We should probably get home," Jensen said instead of whatever he'd been going to say before and Jared silently promised all three dogs every piece of meat he could get his hands on.

"Yeah, we should get back," Jared said, deliberately not saying "home," like that would keep him from jinxing everything. He whistled for the dogs and followed Jensen, pushing his bike back up to the road.

"Last one home has to clean up the dogs," Jensen called, already starting off.

"You're so going to lose that one," Jared answered, and took off after him.

***

The storm broke right as Jared made the final turn toward the gardens and the kitchen door. He charged into the kitchen, groping for the light switch in the gloom. The kitchen, never the brightest of rooms, was especially dark and shadowed with the heavy clouds outside, and Jared wasn't surprised to find the power out either. It wasn't only the plumbing that needed re-doing.

He caught the flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned in time to catch Rosy sneaking in the door.

"What are you doing here," Jared asked, ducking out of the way when Rosy came for him, hissing at him to be quiet.

"What am _I_ doing here?" Rosy didn't look good, his clothes rumpled and spotted and his head looking like it needed a shave. "The question is what the hell are _you_ doing here, because I don't think it's what you're supposed to be doing."

"I've been all over this house," Jared said, in a furious whisper. "In the attics and the basements, and looking under all the beds, even. There's nothing about an eclipse, not anywhere--"

"Jen?" Lady Frances called from upstairs. "Is that you?"

"Get her out of here," Rosy hissed. "_Now_, you useless brat."

"It's me," Jared answered. "Jen's drying off the dogs; he said he'll be right in." He turned around to see Rosy pawing through the set of silver, still in its wooden chest on the kitchen table. "Hey--what do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, this will do nicely," Rosy said, hefting the chest up under his arm. "I can dump this in London and get the bookies off my back until you do your job and find that gold."

"You can't just walk out of here with that!"

"Yeah, and who's going to stop me?" Rosy sneered. "The old lady? You?" He shoved Jared out of his way, hard enough that Jared stumbled back into the table.

"Yeah," Jared said. "Me."

He chased after Rosy, catching up to him as he climbed into the tiny car and grabbing onto the door, yelling at him the whole time. Rosy slapped at him, pounding at Jared's hold on the door while he cranked the engine. Jared held on desperately, even when Rosy backed the car around in a circle. He'd yelled loud enough that the dogs had heard him; they were barking like crazy and the sound was getting closer, but before they could get there Rosy accelerated while he turned and Jared was thrown off to the side by the car's momentum. He stumbled and hit the ground hard, and everything went black.

***

Jared was in a bed; he knew that much. He remembered the rain and the sick feeling of being thrown by the car. He remembered the dogs, too, licking his face and whining; and Jensen, shouting for Jeffrey and for Lady Frances to ring the doctor.

He wasn't at the house, when he opened his eyes; he never recognized the room, but Lady Frances was always there, and so, too, was Jensen. They were holding his hand and telling him to rest, to be still, and he knew they weren't going to want him around, not once they knew the truth, so he closed his eyes and let everything be a lie, just for a little bit longer.

***

When he woke up and the light didn't feel like it was driving a pickaxe into his head, Jensen was there and he said the constable needed to talk to Jared if he felt up to it. Jared thought about taking that out, but he'd only have to deal with it later, so he nodded and answered the guy's questions in a monotone: he'd come in from the rain and the lights weren't working. He'd surprised a man in the kitchen stealing things and chased after him. No, he hadn't seen his face; everything had happened too fast. The constable took a few notes and then left, telling Jensen to ring him if Jared remembered anything more.

Jensen's face was serious when he came back to sit next to Jared. "Gran said she called down and you told her I'd be right in, and the next thing she knew, the dogs are bellowing at the top of their not-inconsiderable lungs and she comes out of the house to find me trying to get you off the ground. He was in the house when she called to you, wasn't he? You put her off, because he was already there. You had to have seen him."

"Don't," Jared whispered. "It's--it was dark. I couldn't see anything."

"Jared," Jensen said, very quietly, and nobody had ever said his name like that, like he mattered. Jared told himself to stop making things worse; thinking that way was crazy and stupid and useless. "Whatever he said, she'll be safe. She's the Dowager Marchioness. The Eighth is already raising bloody hell with anyone who can't run away fast enough."

"She's still an old lady," Jared grated out. "She still can be hurt. What if she hadn't listened? What if she'd come down to the kitchen then? And besides, it's not just--" He shut his mouth with a snap, wishing hard to be unconscious again.

Jensen got him a drink, water with a bent straw so he could drink it more easily, and when Jared was finished, Jensen put the cup down and took Jared's hand. "It's not just what, Jared?"

"It's not just her," Jared said, closing his eyes.

"No, I know that," Jensen said, pushing up the short sleeve of the stupid hospital gown and touching the fading but still visible bruises from where Rosy had grabbed Jared that night in the graveyard.

Jared kept his eyes closed, and after a second Jensen smoothed his sleeve back down.

"You have to know that she won't let anything happen to you," Jensen said. "_We_ won't--"

"Right," Jared burst out. "Sure. Because you'll take care of me, even though I--even though I…" To his horror, his throat closed up and he had to stop talking before he started crying. One sob choked out, but then he swallowed hard and got himself under control. "Besides, that's not what--who I meant."

"Who, then?" Jensen asked, pressing. "You can't think I'll sit here and let someone be hurt--"

"Yeah, see, that's the thing," Jared said. "My friend, he's not a someone. He's not _anyone_. He's just a guy like me, a nobody. He's a _whore_, okay? He works Hollywood Boulevard and if he doesn't show up one day, well, who's going to notice? Or care, if they even notice."

Jared was crying now, the sobs spilling out and he couldn't make himself stop. Jensen sat there and held his hand, wouldn't let it go even when Jared tried to take his hand away, not until whatever it was finished wringing Jared out and he could breathe without choking, and even then it was only to cross over to the door and call for Jeffrey.

"We haven't been entirely honest with you," Jensen said, softly. "I'm sorry about that, but this is too important. Jeffrey did live here, growing up, but he's a Detective Inspector, now, with Scotland Yard. I think he might be able to help your friend."

Once Jensen explained what was going on, Jeffrey fired off question after question to Jared: who was his friend and where did he live? What section of town did he work; did he work with a pimp; who would know him; how would someone get in touch with him? Jared answered as best he could, but his head was pounding again, and he was sickeningly aware that Chad would probably never speak to him again for bringing all this shit down on him.

Jensen finally nodded toward the door and Jeffrey left, promising to be in touch soon. A nurse came in with a lot of pills in little white cups, and Jared was happy not to have to talk. He expected Jensen to leave, but he didn't, just sat back down and laid his hand on top of Jared's and told him everything would be all right. Right as Jared finally slid back into sleep, he thought Jensen leaned up and kissed him on the forehead, but that probably wasn't anything but the drugs and his own stupid subconscious.

***

Jensen was still there when Jared opened his eyes again, and so was Lady Frances.

"I'm sorry--" Jared said, his voice stuck in his throat, so it came out a whisper, but she heard and shook her head and wouldn't let him finish.

"No, I don't want to hear it, Jared. I knew perfectly well something was wrong with your Mr. Rosenbaum, and I will never forgive myself for letting this happen to you." Her voice was stern and fierce. "What I don't understand is what he thought he could gain by all this. It's common knowledge that I took nothing from David's estate; everything is entailed to the next Marquess, and my family, while being very comfortable, certainly has never had anything one would consider grand, other than the house."

"Captain Joshua's treasure," Jared said, quietly. "I was supposed to find it for him, and he was going to give me some of it."

Lady Frances stared at Jared blankly. "Oh, my dear--but we've all decided that was nothing but a myth. Everyone's had a go at looking for it, for generations. I spent weeks and weeks crawling all over the house as a child."

"I did, too," Jensen added. "I think we all have and nothing's ever come to light. Not a single solitary thing."

Jared shrugged, still not meeting their eyes. "They had a letter from the Captain. And there were two pieces of gold with it. They'd had it for years, and then they found me, and told me about how to pretend to be your grandson--" Jared couldn't help but see the look that flashed between Jensen and Lady Frances at that, but he kept on. "And so I came and I searched and I found more."

"Wait, actual clues?" Jensen sounded shocked.

"Two of them," Jared said. "One in the library and one in the churchyard."

"Good heavens," Lady Frances said faintly. "Captain Joshua's treasure."

***

The doctors allowed Jared to leave the hospital, so long as he promised to stay quiet and restful. Lady Frances promised for him, too, with a steely glint in her eye that almost made Jared want to stay for longer. He was pretty sure he was okay, but the news that he'd been in the hospital for three days kind of set him back a little. Lady Frances had her Land Rover at the hospital, so they packed up in that and she drove them all home, pointing out that she was obeying each and every posted speed limit and easing on and off the brakes with especial care. Jensen claimed it was like a miracle, not to have to hold on for his life while driving with her. If he was joking to put Jared at ease, he didn't seem to mind being able to tease Lady Frances at the same time.

When they got home, Jared took them into the library and showed them the stained glass and they imagined for themselves how the light might shine through to illuminate the wall. Then they got back in the car and Lady Frances drove them to the church where Jared showed them the tombstone of Thomas Gray.

"_He followed the eclipse for riches and fame; and, if ye would prosper, do ye the same, _" Jensen read.

"That's all, though," Jared said. "I couldn't find out anything about an eclipse--"

"Oh, that's quite simple," Lady Frances said. "The Eclipse was Captain Joshua's ship." She paused dramatically as they stared at her. "And there is a painting of him on that very ship at home, in his study."

They all turned and ran for the car, and Jensen didn't say a word about how fast Lady Frances drove on the way back to the house. They piled out and were ready to run for the study when Lady Frances reminded them both that Jared was supposed to be resting and that it wouldn't do to have him back in hospital. Jared insisted he was _fine_, and even if he wasn't they were talking about a real _pirate treasure_, but Jensen agreed with Lady Frances, so they walked very, very quickly into the house and back to the old study.

"I almost never come in here," Lady Frances said. "It's all so dark, all heavy fabrics and dark paneling, and yes, Jensen, I know perfectly well that I could change it all, but I'm--"

"Old-fashioned," Jared and Jensen said, together.

"Yes, well, and it's a good thing that I am," Lady Frances said severely, though the corner of her mouth twitched. "If I wasn't, I would have gotten rid of this old monstrosity years ago," she gestured toward the painting, "and then where would we be?"

"Quite right, as usual, Gran," Jensen said, and they all turned to look at the painting. Jensen went and pulled the heavy drapes back off the window, and Jared took the painting off the wall so they could look at it more closely. It was Captain Joshua, standing on the deck of his ship, accepting the surrender of a Spanish captain.

"Captain Joshua's sword," Lady Frances said, pointing. "It's cutting through a piece of paper and it looks as though there's writing on it."

Jensen got down on his hands and knees to try to make out the words.

"Underfoot, in the Great Hall," he read. "Look high, look low, discover all."

"In the Great Hall," Lady Frances said. "After all this time, all the days and days everyone in the family spent searching and the old pirate hid it in the _Great Hall_?"

Jared smothered a smile at the outrage in her voice; when he looked, Jensen was doing the same.

"Very well, then, back to the Great Hall we shall go," Lady Frances said, leading the way and muttering about jumped-up seamen who had issues with paying proper taxes and ended up running their families through untold, ridiculous contortions in order to keep their precious estates. Jared got about one word in three, but Jensen looked as though he was enjoying it all quite a bit.

The Great Hall was gloomy and shadowed; outside the weather had turned, and the clouds were blowing in. Jensen went along the wall and turned the great chandeliers on one by one until the whole room was brightly lit and they stood in the middle of the polished mahogany floor and turned round and round, looking.

"Under foot, in the Great Hall," Jensen started.

"Look high, look low, discover all," Jared finished.

"Not much of a poet, was he?" Lady Frances said. "What on earth do you think he meant?"

"Well," Jared said, thinking about the other clues. "He was big on plays on words. Like the whole Thomas Gray in a country churchyard thing. And how you had to be in the library at sunrise."

"So…" Lady Frances said, doubtfully. "We should be looking under foot?" They all stared at the floor.

"But we're also supposed to be looking high," Jensen said. "Which is good, because this mahogany is harder than stone after all these years."

"All right, let's split up and work our way around the walls, and see if something looks peculiar." Lady Frances pointed them to opposite corners of the room. Jared went to the farthest edge obediently and did his best, scanning along the ceiling and along the floor, but not seeing anything that screamed, "Buried treasure, RIGHT HERE."

"Any idea of what we might be looking for would be appreciated, Gran," Jensen called, and Jared was about to agree when one of the glassed-in doors that led out to the formal garden burst open and Rosy and Tommy all but fell into the room. Jared started to laugh at what idiots they were, but then he saw the gun in Rosy's hand, and it really, really wasn't funny anymore.

"See, I knew I couldn't trust you," Rosy said to Jared, motioning him down toward where Lady Frances was standing. "I knew you'd be double-crossing me, so I've been keeping an eye on you, and what do I see but you showing off the clue in the graveyard to these two."

"Yeah, because I owe you so much for putting me in the hospital," Jared said.

"I guess you really don't care about the pretty little rentboy you left behind, either," Tommy said, and Jared didn't have any answer for that. Tommy knew it, too; his expression was triumphant.

"I can certainly see that you've not progressed on any meaningful level since you were dismissed, Welling," Lady Frances said, with an edge to her voice that Jared had never heard before.

"Yeah, well, as nice as it would be to chat about old times," Rosy said, "we're in a little bit of a hurry, so if we could get on with it, we'll be gone before you know it. And as a bonus, we'll even take the kid off your hands, too."

"I think not," Lady Frances said crisply, dropping her purse on the floor, and shooting the gun out of Rosy's hand with a little two-shot pistol. Jared just stood there with his mouth open, but to be fair, so did everyone for a couple of seconds, and then everything exploded into action, Jensen shouting at Lady Frances about how she'd _promised_ to stop carrying weaponry around in her purse, even while he was throwing himself toward the gun that had bounced halfway across the room, and Tommy yelling at Rosy, because _he'd_ promised the old lady would be an easy mark, and Rosy cursing steadily, shoving Tommy off him and running down the length of the Great Hall, aiming right for Lady Frances.

Jared was moving before he even thought, right at Rosy, as fast as he could. He dropped his shoulder at the last second and hit him low and hard, but even doing it perfect, Jared was still just a skinny kid, and he couldn't quite bring Rosy down. They staggered sideways, though, slamming into one of the columns that lined the room, hard enough that Jared heard it creak and groan, the plaster crumbling under the extra stress.

"Jared!" Jensen shouted, and Jared threw himself backward, just in time to miss the avalanche of plaster and wood raining down from the little balcony the column had held up. The statue that had been up there toppled slowly to the side, sliding down amid a crash of plaster dust and splintered wood, neatly trapping Rosy behind it, and right as Jeffrey appeared, yet another gun in his hand, there was the sound of a gentle rain of coins, dozens and dozens of them, all gold, spilling out of the chest the statue had had his foot on.

"Well," sniffed Lady Frances. "I don't know why none of us ever thought of it before. Joshua was just the sort of conceited ass to have hidden his treasure under the statue he had commissioned of himself."

Jared sat down right in the middle of the floor. Tommy cursed from where Jeffrey was handcuffing him and Rosy cursed even louder from where he was trapped behind the debris. Jared felt a slow smile spreading across his face, one that was echoed on Jensen's.

"Holy crap," he breathed, finishing off in unison with Jensen. "Buried treasure!"

***

Things had started to settle down, the local constable having arrived to collect Rosy and Tommy, and a swarm of lawyers and accountants and Jared didn't even know who else sweeping down from London to deal with the gold and the whole situation in and of itself, when a battered Land Rover drove up to the door and Jensen groaned.

"Oh, hell, here we go," he muttered to Jared, as he went to open the door. "Hello, sir," he said, stepping back to let a white-haired man in. "She's in her office."

"She is, is she? I can't wait to hear the explanation for this one." The old guy patted Jensen on the shoulder, and shot a speculative glance at Jared, but headed off straight down the hallway.

"That's the Marquess," Jensen explained. "The current one, the eighth one."

"He's her stepson?" Jared asked, because if anything the old guy looked way more ancient than Lady Frances. Jensen shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess. She's only a couple of years older than he is, and I think they used to have a lot of fun with that. They've always been good friends, though. He's about the only person in the world who isn't afraid of her when she gets her back up."

Faintly, Jared could hear shouting from down the hall.

"I told you he was going to be furious, and she doesn't like it when people tell her she's being stubborn." Jensen shrugged again. "_Especially_ when she knows it's true."

"Does he know about me?" Jared asked.

"Probably," Jensen answered. "He was pretty involved at the time of the accident; I'm sure she spoke to him as soon as she got the letter--"

"No," Jared said. "I meant, does he know about me being a part of trying to rip her off?"

"Jared," Jensen sighed.

"Don't, Jen." Jared stared at his hands. "Be real, okay?"

Jensen was quiet for a couple of seconds, and when he answered, his voice was low and serious. "I am being real. She knew there was something wrong, right from the start, even before you got here. That's why she contacted Jeffrey." Jensen waited until Jared looked up; his face matched his voice. "What she said at the hospital, about feeling responsible for you getting hurt… She meant every word."

Jared shook his head, but before he could say anything more he heard the door to Lady Frances's office open, and the Marquess walked out as calmly as he'd walked in.

"Oxford, eh?" He stopped and shook hands with Jensen. "Classics, at Pembroke, from what Frances has said. Heard all about the first in Mods. Quite commendable. You'll have to step it up for finals, though."

"Yes, sir; thank you," Jensen said, flushing a little. "I'll definitely be working hard this next year."

"Good man," the Marquess said. "I was Trinity myself, but I suppose it all comes out even in the end." He turned and looked at Jared, and Jared did his best to meet his eyes. Jensen stepped up behind Jared, not saying anything, just there, close and warm and solid.

They stayed like that for what seemed like forever to Jared, but then the Marquess nodded at the bruise not quite hidden under Jared's bangs, and said, "You take care of that, young man."

"Yes, sir," Jared managed to say, and the Marquess nodded again and left. Jensen put his hand on the back of Jared's neck and Jared stood there and tried not to think about how good it felt.

***

Jensen started to give him the _it-doesn't-matter_ speech again, but Jared's head was pounding and the bruises on his ribs and shoulder were sore and aching. Something of all that must have shown in his face, because Jensen broke off and herded him up to his room, producing the pain-killers and a glass of water once they were there.

"Do you want me to pull the curtains?" The sky was still blowing clouds, but had cleared to see the afternoon sun fading toward twilight. Even if Jared lay down on the bed, he'd still be able to see a sliver of the pond.

"I'm okay," Jared said, pretending he didn't notice Jensen rolling his eyes and muttering, "Stubborn."

"I'm sure Mrs. Priory's reaction to all this is going to involve enough food to feed an army, but don't feel as though you have to come down if you're not feeling up to it."

Jared nodded and Jensen turned the lights out and closed the door quietly behind him. Jared settled on his side, finding the one angle that was a little more comfortable, his eyes still on the darkening sky outside the window. He needed to start thinking about what was going to happen next, but the drugs kicked in and he let himself drift on them, promising that he'd face everything later.

***

Jared never actually slept, but being quiet and still made him feel better, enough that when there was a soft, light tap on the door--so quiet he would never have heard it if he hadn't been awake--he got up and went to open the door. He expected it to be Jensen, and had what he thought would be a pretty convincing _no-really-I'm-fine_ speech ready to go. It was Lady Frances, though, and the words got stuck in his throat.

"Jensen said you were resting," she said. "But I thought I'd just check."

She reached up and touched the bruise on the side of his forehead, brushing his hair back as she did. He stood there like an idiot, not knowing what to say, the reality of the gold he'd done his best to steal from her overwhelming everything else.

"We've done a very poor job of following the doctor's orders," she said. "Not much quiet and calm."

"I'm okay," Jared whispered. He started to shrug, but went still as she brushed her hand over the scar against his hair.

"I remember this," she said. "So much blood for such a small boy."

Jared stumbled back, shaking his head. "I'm not--they _told_ me all that stuff." He didn't let himself think about how he knew the right way to find the secret hiding place in the fireplace, because that couldn't have been anything more than a lucky guess. "They told me about the scars and the house, and, and, I'm not even allergic to strawberries, okay? I love them."

"Children often outgrow their allergies, especially when the reaction is first observed at a very young age," Lady Frances said, her voice very gentle. "You got into the strawberry patch before you were even a year old, and your rash was quite mild. We avoided them more to keep from having to dose you with antihistamines than out of any real fear."

"But--"

"You look very much like your father," Lady Frances said. "And then, occasionally, you turn just so, and I see my Anna in your smile."

"I don't--I can't--" Jared's heart was pounding hard enough that he thought it might jump out of his chest, and he had to swallow hard before he could talk again. "You can't know that for sure."

"No," Lady Frances said. "I can't, not quite yet, but I have some pictures I'd like you to see." Jared let her lead him from the room, down the big staircase at the front of the house and into the drawing room where they'd first had tea. Jensen was there, and Jeffrey, too.

"Judging from the pole-axed look on his face, you told him," Jeffrey said. Jensen didn't say anything, only shifted over so Jared could sit next to him.

"I did," Lady Frances said. "Jared, dear, I didn't tell you earlier, because I didn't want to tease you with the possibility, but the longer this has gone on, the more completely unfair it seemed that you not know, too."

Jensen put his hand on top of Jared's, where it sat on his knee, and Jared held on tight to him, not caring how stupid or desperate he seemed.

"I've only ever seen pictures," Jensen said. "But Jeffrey lived here then, and he agrees with Gran."

"Your grandmother sent me the picture that came with the letter and I couldn't argue with her. In person, the resemblance is even more striking." Jeffrey said it, said _grandmother_, with a sort of easy conviction that rocked Jared back a little more.

"I've received dozens of inquiries like that first letter over the years," Lady Frances said. "I would have dismissed it completely, except for your photograph. Even then, I didn't trust myself until Jeffrey agreed that the likeness was enough that we had to respond. He gave up his holiday and came down to keep an eye on things, especially once we saw you in person."

"That night I met you outside," Jared said, looking at Jeffrey. "I thought you were following me."

"I knew something was off," Jeffrey said. "I should have pushed it right then and there, but none of us thought you were in danger."

"I was okay, until I--he was taking things, stealing right in front of me, and I … don't know," Jared said. "The treasure wasn't real, you know? It was nothing but this stupid story he was spinning, but taking stuff out of the house, stuff you'd decided you wanted…" Jared took a deep breath. "I--he came and got me and brought me here and nobody was going to care what happened to me. I knew that, but … It just made me so mad, him stealing that stuff."

"Let me be perfectly clear about this, Jared," Lady Frances said. "No matter what the medical testing reveals, nothing, _nothing_, is worth you being hurt."

Jensen squeezed his hand a little and Jared nodded once. Mrs. Priory came in then, to tell them it was time for tea and she didn't want to hear anything about anyone not having an appetite. Lady Frances sniffed, but led them all down to the kitchen. Jensen had been right earlier: Mrs. Priory had made enough food to feed twenty people, all kinds of things that were comforting and homey, things that Jared had discovered since he'd been there.

"Heavens," Lady Frances said, surveying the table. "Macaroni cheese _and_ a cottage pie?"

"And a chocolate cake," Mrs. Priory said firmly.

It was good, but what was better was that Jensen didn't let go of Jared's hand the whole time.

***

The rest of the night was as much of a blur; later, Jared remembered a box full of pictures in frames, people getting married and babies being christened, picnics and garden parties, and nobody had to tell him why they were so sure he was the one Lady Frances had been looking for because seeing some of the pictures was like looking into a faded mirror. He remembered when he used to make up what his parents, his real parents, looked like, but he didn't think he'd ever dared to make them look as happy as the pictures he held in his hands. It was almost too much for his brain to process, and he'd never been more relieved to go to bed and not have to think about anything.

The next morning was better. His head didn't hurt nearly as much, and moving around loosened up his muscles. Lady Frances was on the phone non-stop, but Mrs. Priory loaded so much food onto the table in the morning room that Jared was afraid it might break. By the time he was finished, though, there wasn't all that much left, which absolutely proved how awesome Mrs. Priory was.

Jeffrey came in while Jared was trying to decide if he really could eat more toast (more bacon was a given, but toast was a little bit lower on the food chain, even with all the jam he could heap onto it.)

"About your friend--the one they threatened--" Jeffrey said. "I talked to a few people I know in Los Angeles, and they managed to track him down. They made sure he was all right, gave him a little warning about the threats."

"He's okay?" Jared had to clear his throat twice before the words came out right.

"He's fine, and I don't think we have anything to worry about with those two in custody."

"Thank you," Jared said, his breath rushing out. "Really, thanks. I--he's a friend, and--"

"Happy we could find him," Jeffrey said, sounding like he meant it. He gave Jared a phone number, too, something that had been passed back from the California people, from Chad. All of it, the whole conversation, was friendly enough enough for Jared to work up the nerve to ask if Jeffrey was the one who'd thrown Tommy out when he'd worked there before.

"That would have been my father, but I did hear all about it."

"Cool," Jared said. "He was still running scared, you know."

"I'll be sure to pass that along." Jeffrey grinned, and Jared found himself smiling back. "It'll make his day."

So, yeah, the morning went along pretty well, and best of all, once Jensen came out of his morning fog, he looked at Jared like nothing had changed and asked him if he felt up to dealing with the dogs.

The answer was so much yes that Jared tripped over his own stupid feet on his way out of the room, but it didn't matter. Jensen only rolled his eyes and the dogs practically tackled Jared as soon as he stepped outside.

"They missed you," Jensen said, sitting down on the steps and watching with a smile on his face. "I took them out every day, but they weren't happy about it."

Jared finally went ahead and lay back and let the dogs climb all over him, licking and whining and nosing at him, like they were making sure he was okay. He didn't think he was supposed to hear Jensen add, "I wasn't happy about it either," so he buried his face in the wriggling mass of fur on top of him until he could stop smiling.

Jensen wouldn't let him run, so they fell back on the old favorite of throwing sticks for the dogs to chase and bring back as they cut across the fields down to the stream. The dogs dove in, barking and chasing shadows in the water, while Jared and Jensen flopped down on the bank.

"This is good," Jensen said, leaning back on his elbows and making a face every time one of the dogs--or Jared--splashed him. "Maybe a bit more excitement than my normal stay, but still good."

"It's still just a visit, though," Jared said, his brain finally waking up to reality. "Your family…"

"They're in Singapore now," Jensen said. "I always come and spend some time with Gran before I go to them for the rest of summer holidays. I'll be back in September, though," he added. "Before next term starts."

"Yeah," Jared said, shoving down his disappointment. "Yeah, of course."

"They have phones there," Jensen said, and he was teasing a little but he was serious, too, Jared realized. Jared ducked his head and Jensen got all the way serious. "I mean it, Jared--you can talk to me anytime."

"Right." Jared nodded slowly. "Sorry. I'm not--it's not really sticking that I'm not going anywhere." He _hadn't_ thought about it. If he turned his head, he'd be able to see the house; he didn't know quite how to deal with it being where he lived for real.

"You're not," Jensen said. "That must be--Is that strange?"

"I--there's never been any place that's been home," Jared admitted. "It's not even the house so much, just… I've never stayed anywhere before. And now…"

"And now you're here," Jensen said. "But it's for as long as _you_ want."

Jared shook his head because he really didn't know how to explain things to Jensen, how him wanting anything hadn't counted for much. He wasn't sure that he even wanted to try.

"I am going to want to know what's going on," Jensen continued. "Even the things you think aren't worth mentioning."

"Okay," Jared said. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure, and it's settled." Jensen sat up and pried a stick loose from Sadie's mouth and tossed it away again.

***

Jared worked through the time difference between England and California twice, just to be sure he got it right, and decided that midnight would probably be the best time to try to call. Lady Frances had looked him over with careful eyes when he'd asked how to make an international call, but wrote the calling codes down for him without any comment.

He expected to only get voicemail, so he stumbled a little when Chad answered on the first ring, but it didn't matter. Chad barely let him say hello.

"Holy _shit_, Jared, what the fuck is going on?" Usually, Chad sounded bored and lazy, with a permanent smirk to his tone, but right then his voice went so high it almost cracked. "First you fucking _disappear_, and that stupid cow of a social worker won't tell me a goddamn thing--"

"Wait, you went looking for me?" They'd hung out together, sure, but Chad had his life and Jared was just the kid who looked out for his dog.

"Of course I went looking for you, you moron." Jared heard rustling noises, and knew Chad was reaching for the pack of cigarettes he always had in his pocket. "Fat lot of good it did, but yeah," he inhaled deeply, "I kinda got into it with her. She fucking sucks at lying; I knew she knew something. Didn't leave until she threatened to call the cops, but even then I told her I'd be keeping an eye on her. I did, too, at least until she up and quit."

"Chad, man," Jared said, after a second or two where he couldn't find his voice. "That's--thanks."

"No problem," Chad answered, and they sat in silence again. "So, uh, yeah, everybody was pretending like there's nothing going on, and then I get off-duty Vice knocking on my door telling me to lay low for a while?"

"Man, I am so sorry about that," Jared said, wincing. "I didn't know they were gonna be cops--they just said they'd try to get somebody to find you."

"Well," Chad said, and Jared heard him light another cigarette. "I never saw a badge or nothin', but trust me. I know Vice boys when I see them."

"Yeah," Jared said. "I guess you do."

"And, y'know, I appreciate the heads-up that some douche wants to off me, regardless of who's telling me."

"I…" Jared hadn't actually planned on this; he'd just wanted to leave a message, let Chad know he'd gotten the number, and now that it was all there in front of him, he wasn't exactly sure where to start.

"Dude," Chad said finally. "Spill." He was back to the bored voice, like he couldn't care less what Jared had to say, but Jared knew better. He took a deep breath and just said it, straight up. Chad kept interrupting, a non-stop stream of _holy shit_ and _no fucking way_, so it took a while, but they got through everything eventually.

"Man," Chad said. "That is too fucking freaky."

"I know," Jared answered. "I--it happened to me and it doesn't feel real. I don't know exactly what's happening next, except I guess I'm staying here."

"Yeah, well, it is real," Chad said, suddenly serious. "And freaky or not, it doesn't sound half bad, so yeah, you're damn right you're staying there."

"Yeah," Jared said, relaxing a little. "I guess I am."

***

Jensen had a flight to Singapore booked for the next week, and Jared bounced back and forth between being happy for every little bit of time and feeling like counting down the days was slow torture. He didn't have much time to think about it either way, though, because Lady Frances kept them so busy Jared could barely keep his eyes open long enough to pull the comforter over his head as he fell into bed every night.

She'd put the whole thing with the National Trust people on hold, so he and Jensen dragged all the trunks and boxes and barrels they'd taken down out of the attics back up, which took most of two days and left the two of them sneezing their heads off from the dust they were stirring up. Once they got that done to everyone's satisfaction (everyone being Lady Frances and Mrs. Priory because neither Jared nor Jensen cared the slightest bit how the stuff was arranged in the attics) they piled everything Lady Frances deemed worthy of the church jumble sale into her Land Rover and drove it all down to the village to be unloaded.

Helping out with the jumble sale the next morning--setting up tents and dragging out tables and running back and forth to help carry boxes--was a mini-vacation, if only because they were done with the hard labor before ten in the morning. Lady Frances shooed them off to have a good time, and since there was an entire section devoted to a bake sale, that wasn't hard to accomplish that. Later in the afternoon, there were people Lady Frances wanted Jared to meet: the headmaster at the local school and some of the kids who went there. It was okay--way less boring than he expected, but a little weird, too. They were nice and all, and one of the girls flirted with him some, but they were focused on things like uniforms and Pony Club (whatever that was) and Scout trips.

He ended up talking with Carrie, one of the older girls; she was eighteen and finished with school, working at a local golf club to earn a bit of money before she left to spend eight months of her gap year with Habitat for Humanity.

Jensen came over during the last part, and he and Carrie compared notes on taking a year off. "Mine was nothing very exciting, but I'm still glad I did it."

"Why do you do that?" Jared asked him later, while they were waiting for Lady Frances to finish up so they could go home. "Say that everything you like is boring or dull…?"

"Because it _is_," Jensen said. "I'm doing Classics--I spend my days in a library, translating bits of Greek poetry."

"But you like it, right?" Jared waited until Jensen nodded, then said firmly, "Then it's cool."

Jensen shook his head, but Jared saw his mouth curve up in a half-smile, so he didn't feel bad at all about bringing the subject up.

The next day really was a day off, but only because the lawyers were coming down again to talk about everything that had happened, Jared's legal status, and what was going to happen next. Jared would rather have carried every stick of furniture in the house up and down the stairs than deal with them, but he didn't have much choice. Even worse, he had to wear a tie.

It took forever, and they kept wanting to skip things, but Lady Frances wouldn't let them move on until Jared understood everything they were telling him, which was mostly that if the DNA tests came back the way everybody was expecting them to, he would legally be a citizen of both the US and England, and that there was a small trust in his name that had never been dissolved after his disappearance. He was still a little shaky at translating English money to dollars, but they'd had to explain about trusts twice before it penetrated that they were talking about money that was his, so he figured he'd work out the amount on his own later.

There were a ton of papers that had to be signed, and the lawyers all said they'd be back once the DNA tests came in, to finalize things, but once they translated all the legal stuff, it came down to Jared officially being a ward of Lady Frances. There was one extra lawyer on the phone, representing the family in the US, but she said they had no problem with formal custody resting with Lady Frances, so long as they were able to visit.

Jared looked helplessly at Lady Frances as she answered that she had more bedrooms than she knew what to do with and they were welcome any time. As stupid as it made him sound, he hadn't even gotten through the part where she might be his family, let alone that there'd be more.

Lady Frances wanted him to stay through the discussions about the treasure, too. It was at some auction house in London, waiting for the proper timing for the market. The numbers they were talking about there absolutely didn't sound real, but he got through everything until they started talking about him again, about schools and transferring educational records. He had to ask them to stop, then. Or, really, he just sat there and laughed, because school hadn't been anything he'd ever cared about before, and his brain sure as hell wasn't going along the same path everybody else's was.

Lady Frances called a halt at that point, and sent all the lawyers back to London, and after the last car left, she came and found Jared on the bench by the pond. She still wore her blue silk dress, but she had a paper bag with her that Jared knew was full of bread crusts for the ducks.

"School is--I was counting the days 'til I could drop out," Jared said as soon as she sat down, because she might as well know the truth. "Nobody really would have cared, least of all me, and now..." He shrugged helplessly.

"We'll sort things out, find the best way to fill in whatever gaps are in your background. The local comprehensive has an excellent reputation, and I'm certain we'll be able to find you a bit of extra help if necessary." She sat and watched the ducks for a bit. "I know all this must be quite overwhelming, but it's not too early to start thinking about what you might like to do. Go into business or study law or become a gameskeeper, if that's what sounds right. It doesn't matter what you do, just that it's something you enjoy. There's no rush, Jared. But it's something you can think about now."

Jared nodded and took the bread from her, throwing it long and wide so the ducks would spread out on the water. "I'm pretty sure studying law is out, but I'll think about it. I promise."

Jared wasn't going to think about it right then, though, because it was Jensen's last night. His flight was in the late morning, but instead of spending the night in London, near the airport, he'd insisted he'd be fine getting up early and leaving then.

"Mrs. Priory's breakfasts are worth a little extra effort," he'd said, which of course meant that she'd be making every single one of his favorites in the morning.

Lady Frances left them alone as soon as dinner was through, and they ended up watching old movies that Jensen loved but Jared had never heard of before. The house was dark and quiet, Mrs. Priory had found popcorn for them, and the only thing that wasn't awesome about the whole night was how jumpy Jared was about Jensen missing the flight because of his general hatred of mornings. He kept checking his watch until Jensen finally reached out and put his hand firmly over Jared's. Jared almost stopped breathing, but Jensen didn't move, kept watching the movie, and they fell asleep like that--almost, but not quite, holding hands.

Jared woke up a couple of hours later, the TV showing nothing but snow and the dogs all snoring. Jensen was awake, too; Jared thought that might have been what woke him. It was quiet in the house, and mostly quiet outside, as though they were the only two awake for miles.

"It's going to be really weird when you're gone," Jared whispered. "I'm going to miss you."

"Me, too," Jensen answered, his eyes open and unguarded. It was the easiest thing in the world for Jared to reach out and slide his free hand along Jensen's jaw, warm skin and the slight scratch of stubble on his palm, but it still was a surprise to end up in a kiss, a slow, careful press of his mouth against Jensen's. It was a thousand times better than their first kiss had been, which was great, but what was even more awesome was that Jared was sure they could get better still.

Jensen turned his hand and laced their fingers together, and Jared smiled into the kiss even as Jensen eased back. It was okay; he only went a little way and ended up resting his forehead against Jared's. He was smiling, too.

"You should go to bed," Jared said, before Jensen could worry more about how old Jared was or wasn't. "You won't be awake enough to eat everything Mrs. Priory's going to fix for you and then she'll be offended and end up liking me best."

"I think I'm going to lose that battle regardless," Jensen said, playing along. "No way am I going to be able to keep up with you." He let Jared tug him to his feet and steer him toward the back stairs.

Jared went upstairs carefully, so the steps wouldn't creak and wake anyone else up, so no one would interrupt this little world they were in. Jensen moved just as carefully, stopping when they got to his bedroom door.

"Jare--" he started, and Jared shook his head.

"It's okay, Jen." Jared squeezed Jensen's hand before he let it drop. "I'm okay."

"What if I'm not?"

"You are." Jared took a deep breath. "Everything you're worried about, it's--I get it, okay?" He left out the part where he was discovering this huge well of determination inside him and, maybe even more strangely, something to be determined about. "_We're_ okay."

Jensen looked at him for a long minute, but then nodded. "I'll see you in the morning, before I go?"

"Yeah, like I'm going to miss out on _that_ breakfast," Jared said, keeping it as light as he could. Jensen laughed softly, which meant Jared had gotten it exactly right, and they split up. Jared left the curtains in his room open,so the sun would wake him, and then set the alarm clock to be absolutely sure, because there was no way he was oversleeping.

***

Jared gave himself a pep talk on the way down to breakfast in the morning, which helped, but was nothing compared to the lift he got when the first thing Jensen did when Jared sat down was to make sure Jared had the phone number where Jensen could be reached.

"And if you lose it, Gran has it, too," Jensen said. "It'll take me today to get there and a little bit to get used to the time change, but any time you want to talk to me, I want to hear from you."

Jared folded the slip of paper and tucked it safely away in his pocket, then got down to making the last little bit of time with Jensen something good to remember. It was easier than he'd thought it would be because he really did like making Jensen smile. The more he did it, the happier he was, too, so by the time they were in the library waiting for the car that was going to take Jensen to Heathrow, Jared was feeling like he'd done a pretty good job, at least until Jensen reached out and pushed Jared's hair out of his eyes.

"You don't have to do all this," Jensen said. "Jolly me out of my morning mood."

"I don't mind," Jared said. "I like it." He took a deep breath and added, "And, right now, it's about the only thing that's keeping me from being some dumb kid who can't deal with people leaving." He shrugged and half-smiled. "I _really_ don't want that to be how you remember me."

"Don't do that," Jensen said, sliding his hand into Jared's hair and pulling him close, angling his head just right and _kissing_ him, a thousand times better than the last time, a thousand times better again when he licked Jared's mouth open, nothing uncertain or unsure. Jared couldn't breathe, couldn't see, but managed to get his hands around Jensen, and held on tight.

"Don't," Jensen said again, low and rough against Jared's mouth. "Please. I want _you_, not someone you think I want you to be."

"Jen," Jared whispered. His heart was pounding, and he felt a little light-headed, but Jensen really was there, holding him close, so Jared didn't think he'd heard wrong. "I--Okay."

"Good." Jensen kissed him again, slow, focused, and when they heard the car pull up and finally broke apart he was as breathless as Jared. Jared walked outside with him, blinking in the bright morning sun, and everything was okay, even when Jensen pulled him into a hug and he couldn't let go for a couple of extra seconds.

Jensen smiled at him, saying, "Don't let Gran do anything crazy," as he got in the car. Jared stepped back and let Lady Frances take his hand as the car drove off. He could tell she was worried about him, and that was the last thing he wanted.

"He didn't really define 'crazy,' did he?" His voice wasn't quite right, but he managed to find a smile somewhere.

"No, he most certainly did not," Lady Frances agreed, with an answering smile. "How very sloppy of him." Jared's smile turned into something that was real and unforced. "We'll just have to explain that to him when the inevitable dramas begin. I'll let you take care of that, dear."

"I can do that," Jared said, as they walked back into the house together.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the timestamp I should have written with the actual story--set a few years later, Jared is all grown up now, and he has _plans_ for New Year's Eve.

_December 1999_

The dogs always seemed to know when it was Jensen in a car coming up the drive. They would bark and jump around whenever they were out and any car came by, but when it was Jensen, they would race out to meet him, running alongside and practically turning flips in their excitement.

Jared totally got it.

He made himself stay on the steps, though, and yeah, okay, he might be vibrating with excitement, but that was (mostly) on the inside. And hey, he _wanted_ Jensen to know Jared was happy to see him. Plus, it was December, so it was cold, and who was going to blame Jared for moving around a little to help keep warm?

Jensen finally made it all the way to the house (it was a long drive, but Jared supposed that went with the big house behind him, and no, even after living there for years, he still couldn't quite wrap his brain around it being _home_), pulling up with a flourish (it was a great car, Jared wasn't going to argue with that, but he was still going to give Jensen shit about driving like he thought he was James Bond or something) and opening the door. The dogs converged on him before he took his second step, and Jared couldn't help laughing at the beleaguered expression on his face as they all but tackled him.

"You might consider helping," Jensen said as he staggered back, losing ground rapidly under their combined weight and momentum. "They listen to you."

"I wouldn't want you to think they didn't remember you," Jared answered, but he relented and whistled sharply. The dogs were really excited, though, and it took a second and third try before they stopped slobbering on Jensen and only raced around him, barking at every step he took. Jared couldn't decide if they were trying to be encouraging or trying to take him down so they could get a proper face-licking in.

"Heavens," his grandmother said, coming out of the door behind him. "If I didn't know better, I'd think we were about to be invaded." Her expression softened into a beaming smile for Jensen--_Hello, darling, lovely to see you_\--before she turned back to meet Jared's eyes serenely. "No glaring, young man. I am all but mummified with cashmere, I can certainly pop out to see what all the uproar is about."

Since she _was_ wrapped up in sweaters and scarves against the cold, and he knew how much she hated to be fussed over, Jared bit his tongue, but he called the dogs off with meaning this time so everyone could get back inside before the chill could settle in their bones. Jensen might have been in Greece during the worst of the pneumonia incident, but he'd called nearly every day and worried right along with Jared; he came up the steps quickly, but without looking like he was hurrying.

"I hope I'm not late for tea," he said, and somehow they were all inside and in front of the fire before Jared more than blinked. But then, Jared already knew Jensen was really smooth, it was one of those things Jared admired.

"Like Mrs. Priory wouldn't save you three of everything even if you had," Jared said. The table was laid and ready to go, and he knew Mrs. Priory would have put the kettle on as soon as she heard the dogs going wild.

"Having you both here will be very satisfying for her," Lady Frances said. "She's certain to have you stuffed fatter than the Christmas goose before you leave, which _will_ be tomorrow, Jared. I don't want to hear any nonsense about the two of you missing out on the Millennium Eve celebrations to sit here with me."

Before Jared could open his mouth, Mrs. Priory arrived with her little cart loaded down with covered plates and the big silver teapot and the creamer and sugar bowl. Jensen gave Jared a quick, sideways look, one that said to let Jensen handle things, so Jared went to help her unload everything while Jensen did his not-fussing act and got Lady Frances settled in front of the fire with a dog on either side of her and the needlepoint rug over her knees. Jared handed over a cup of tea fixed exactly how she liked it, and put on his best innocent face when she turned a stern look at him.

"I'm eating, I'm eating," he said, pointing to the giant piece of gingerbread on the plate by his elbow. "You know I'm not going to skip out on that, no matter how many cups of tea I make for you."

"Yes, well, less fussing and more enjoying each others company would be appreciated," Lady Frances said severely, including Jensen, who had neatly slid a plate of biscuits and sweets onto the small table next to her, in her glare this time.

"Who's not enjoying each others company?" Jensen asked, with an innocent face of his own. "I am capable of multitasking, you know."

Jared kept a straight face as he nodded vigorously in agreement--his mouth was full of gingerbread. Lady Frances shook her head at their antics, but she stopped glaring at them and let Jensen tell her all about Greece and the project he was working on. Jared listened with half an ear; he'd heard a lot of this as it happened, but then Jensen said, "About tomorrow night--" and Lady Frances actually snapped at him.

"I shall be _very_ disappointed in the both of you, giving up your plans simply because I was silly enough to have pneumonia three months ago." She set her teacup into its saucer sharply, which for her was like Jared throwing the whole thing against a wall or something.

"We don't want to leave you here alone," Jared said simply.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" his grandmother sniffed. "I have plans of my own, you know." She smiled imperturbably at their reaction. "It _is_ the new millennium, after all, and while I have no desire to traipse to the city to see it in, it does seem as though it should be marked in some fashion. I'm having a party."

Jared gave up trying not to be rude and gaped at her. Jensen, who was much less trusting than Jared when it came to Lady Frances, turned immediately to Mrs. Priory.

"It's to be twelve for dinner, and quite a few more for after. I've been baking for days." She nodded conspiratorially to Lady Frances. "We might want to order an extra case of champagne, my lady."

"Now, then, should you wish to join us, I'm certain Mrs. Priory can manage something, and I've never been one to be fussed about whether the seating arrangements alternate strictly between men and women, but do let us know shortly. I'm to be writing up the place cards this evening."

"You never said!" Jared sputtered.

"You never asked," Lady Frances answered, reasonably enough, except for the tiniest of smirks (he wouldn't have thought somebody as old as Lady Frances could smirk, but he'd found out how wrong he was pretty fast.) It told Jared how much she liked messing with him and Jensen. That was okay, though; Jared was happy enough to see her back to where she was feeling strong enough. "You _are_ welcome to stay, but I can't imagine a room full of ancient dinner jackets and ball gowns would be nearly as entertaining as whatever you might get up to in the city."

"I don't know," Jensen said, arching one eyebrow and sending a smirk of his own toward Jared. "You're ordering cases of champagne--maybe we should think about hanging around. Just to keep an eye on things, of course."

Jared nodded as innocently as possible, and his grandmother laughed at the both of them and shooed them off to get ready for their trip.

*

The train was a much better option than driving up to London in Jensen's sleek little car--they sat together and Jensen read an impenetrable text in ancient Aramaic while Jared watched and dozed--but Jared still gave Jensen a hard time about how he babied the car. Jensen claimed he couldn't be made to feel guilty about it, but he did promise to take Jared out and show him what the car could really do.

"Don't tell your grandmother," Jensen warned, and Jared laughed, because he knew exactly why Jensen wanted to keep it a secret and it had nothing to do with Lady Frances not approving of fast cars.

"You just know you can't say no to her," Jared teased. "She probably can drive it better than either of us."

"I've no doubt," Jensen answered, one side of his mouth quirking up into a half-smile. "I also have no doubt I'd have a heart attack in the process of her proving that to me."

They were pulling into the station then, and even still being on the train, Jared could feel how much more charged up the city was than usual. The first couple of months that he'd lived in England, he'd had this idea that London would be boring. He'd grown up in LA, after all, and the manic energy there was what he was used to, but he'd been wrong about that, too. He liked living out in the country and having tons of space to roam around, but he'd found that London was _awesome_. When he came with his grandmother, they never stopped. She took him to the West End to see everything from Shakespeare to musicals, and they only went to a restaurant a second time if Jared asked point-blank because there was always some place new to try. She always had something she wanted him to see, even if it was just a different neighborhood or a little park in a square. A couple of years earlier, Jared would have laughed at anyone who would have said he'd have cared about a bunch of old buildings, but it was different now that he had someone who could tell him what everything looked like during the Blitz or how the shop they were walking into had been around for hundreds of years.

It took for-freaking-ever to get a cab--the city was already a zoo and it wasn't even much after lunch--but they finally got to the mews house and dumped their bags and tried to figure out what their game plan was. Jensen was big on Jared seeing the fireworks, which Jared didn't object to, not at all, even if it did mean they'd need to be standing around in the cold for hours. What wasn't good about shit that blew up? Jensen kept checking, like he was afraid Jared wouldn't have a good time or something.

"Dude," Jared said, shoving Jensen back down steps and outside. "I'm good with whatever, as long as you're planning to feed me in there somewhere."

"I have it marked down right here," Jensen deadpanned, pretending to write on his palm. "Feed the American grizzly; he gets snappish when he's hungry. Curry good with you?"

Jared rolled his eyes and bumped his shoulder into Jensen's. He was cool with whatever, so long as it didn't interfere with his own plans, the ones that involved having Jensen all to himself.

"Lead on," Jared said cheerfully.

"You know that's a misquote, right?" Jensen bumped shoulders back. "And the original meaning is to start fighting to the death?"

"Details," Jared said. "Didn't you say something about food?"

*

It was gone past two in the morning before they finally made it back to the house, half-frozen and stumbling, mostly from how tired they were, but a little from the Scotch Jensen had carried along in a little flash. It was disgusting stuff in Jared's opinion, but he had no objection about getting a little buzzed, and he sure as hell wasn't going to turn down sharing _anything_ with Jensen.

It took Jared three tries to get the key in the lock and the door open, but that was because Jensen had draped himself over Jared's back and that was so incredibly distracting Jared was lucky he could remember what a key was for, much less how to use one. Plus, he was sure that Jensen was going to let go as soon as Jared got the door open and he had to remind himself that standing still meant freezing to death. It took longer than it probably should have for that to really sway the argument, but he didn't think Jensen figured it out.

They'd forgotten to turn a light on before they left, so it was pitch black inside. Jared fumbled for the light switch, but right when he finally found it, Jensen reached out and wrapped his hand around Jared's wrist.

"Jen--?" Jared started to ask what was wrong, but then Jensen turned him just enough that he could find Jared's mouth with his own and there was _nothing_ wrong with that. Jensen's lips were cold and a little chapped, rough from the wind and weather, but Jared's were probably the same, and it really freaking didn't matter, especially not once Jared got turned around enough that Jensen could press up close, and really not when he put his hand on Jared's jaw, held him steady and kept kissing him until Jared was almost dizzy from not breathing.

"Happy new year," Jensen murmured, breaking off and working his way along Jared's jaw, leaving a trail of quick, sharp bites and not-quite gentle kisses over the stings.

"Same--same to you," Jared gasped. He felt Jensen grin against his skin, and he laughed, because apparently, Jensen had the same plan Jared had, only he was sneakier about it than Jared imagined. Jensen gave him just enough time to breathe in a couple of times--and seriously, oxygen was a good thing--and then he went right back to the kissing part, harder now, more serious. Jared gave up trying to get the light on--really, he thought vaguely, who _cared_ if there was light?--and backed toward the narrow flight of stairs that led up to the living space. Jensen moved with him, letting Jared feel their way up, one step at a time while he worked his hand between them, unbuttoning coats and pushing them off.  

Jared stumbled once, when Jensen got his hands up under Jared's sweater, but managed not to fall, and they got to the top of the stairs without killing themselves. Up there, the streetlights filtered in through where they hadn't pulled the curtains, enough light that Jared could see well enough not to trip as he edged them away from the stairwell. Jensen still moved with him, but they'd been here before, long, deep kisses and hands under clothes.

"Jen," Jared said against Jensen's mouth. It wasn't quite kissing, but it wasn't quite not kissing either. "Jen--I want--"

It was stupid, not being able to just say it, but Jared was suddenly, horribly, certain that he was reading Jensen wrong, that saying the words _I want you_ out loud would break whatever spell they were under and Jared would just be the kid with a crush. That was more than stupid--Jensen had never treated him like that, not even when it was all Jared really was. Even now, Jensen wasn't pulling away, so Jared took a deep breath and brushed his mouth across Jensen's for luck.

"I want you," he said, and if he couldn't make his voice be louder than a hoarse whisper, at least it was steady. He'd mostly stopped breathing, but you couldn't have everything.

"I want you, too," Jensen murmured back, and Jared almost fell over, he was so relieved. He did stagger a little, but Jensen had his arms around him, so he was doing just fine.

"Stay with me tonight," Jared managed to say in between the kind of kisses he'd been thinking about for years now, serious and focused and so freaking _good_

"Jay," Jensen said, sounding suspiciously like he was trying not to laugh at Jared. He was still kissing Jared, though, _and_ he was steering them into the bedroom, so Jared really didn't care. "Where else would I go?"

"I'm just making sure," Jared answered. "Communication is important, right?"

Jensen made a low, quiet sound of agreement, all but lost in Jared's gasp as he slid his hands up under Jared's sweater and shirt, a fast glide of skin on skin that lit up nerves all over Jared's body. Jared let go of Jensen long enough to reach back and grab at his sweater, yank it off over his head, and Jensen made another quiet noise, one that sounded like a purr. Jared was going to give him a hard time about it, but then Jensen practically ripped Jared's shirt open and everything that wasn't Jensen's hands stroking up and down Jared's body went flying out of Jared's head.

Jared managed to stumble back to the bed, dragging Jensen with him until they were sprawled out on the icy, crisp linen sheets and it felt like the only thing keeping Jared anchored to the world was Jensen heavy and warm on top of him. Jared felt like he should be doing something, not just clutching randomly at Jensen but his brain wasn't keeping up, even before Jensen slipped the tips of his fingers under Jared's waistband.

"Jared?" Jensen traced a tiny arc with his fingers, a slow back-and-forth brush that had Jared arching desperately into it. "I'll take that as a yes?"

"God, please," Jared whimpered. "_Yes_."

Jensen didn't tease, just tugged open the buttons on Jared's jeans and pushed his boxers out of the way. Jared was half-hard already, just from the kissing and the little bit of touching they'd been doing; the feel of Jensen's hand closing around his dick--holding at first, and then dragging his hand along the full length--was almost too much. Jared heard the noises he was making and knew he was making an idiot of himself, but he'd wanted Jensen for so long he couldn't stop himself.

"Shhh," Jensen soothed, stroking Jared with an easy, smooth rhythm. "I've got you, I've got you." He coaxed Jared to turn his head enough that Jensen could kiss him, little nips along Jared's bottom lip until Jared opened his mouth and let Jensen swallow down his gasps and whimpers. Jensen hummed encouragement, and his hand tightened around Jared.

Jared spread his legs and pushed up into Jensen's fist, jerking helplessly and groaning as Jensen rubbed his thumb _hard_ over the head of his dick. It was perfect; it was too much; it was nowhere near enough. Jared wanted it to last longer--wanted it to never end, really--but Jensen was relentless, his hand moving faster and just a little rougher, not backing off at all, his tongue pushing into Jared′s mouth with the same rhythm, claiming Jared everywhere. Jared gave up and let it happen, let Jensen′s hands and mouth send him spiraling completely out of control. It rushed over Jared, uncoiling from low in his gut, fast, hard waves of pleasure that left him a sweaty, shaking mess.

Jensen stayed right with him, pressed even closer. He murmured quietly, things that Jared couldn't make sense of but brought him back down anyway, word by word  until Jared's heart settled down a little and he could breathe without panting.

"God," Jared sighed, turning his head so he could kiss Jensen for real. He could feel the tension still thrumming through Jensen, the want and the need, and it sparked an echo in him even though he'd just come hard enough that he still wasn't seeing right. "Wait," Jared murmured, stealing one more kiss before he made himself reach for his duffel on the floor. It seemed a million years earlier that he'd packed, but he knew exactly where he'd tucked the rubbers and a little packet of slick into his shaving kit. It had felt like a huge thing, packing up supplies for actual sex when he and Jensen hadn't really talked about anything, but now he was so glad he'd gone ahead and done it he could barely keep a stupid grin off his face. He managed, though, because it was super-important that Jensen not think he wasn't ready for this.

"Jared," Jensen whispered when Jared turned around with the stuff. "Are you--are you--?"

"Yes," Jared said firmly, dropping everything on the bed next to Jensen, and attacking the rest of his clothes, wrestling his jeans down over his hips and toeing out of his socks and shoes at he same time. He tucked away the thought of Jensen getting him off before they'd even gotten undressed for later thought--he was pretty sure he'd be jerking off to _that_ for at least a couple of years--and reached out to help Jensen with his clothes, too. "I am so sure you don't even know, Jen," Jared said, straddling his lap and kissing him slowly. "So sure."

"I--" Jensen broke off with a gasp as Jared ground down on him. "I'm sure, too." He slid his hands up Jared's back, and Jared arched into the touch. "I just needed to know you were."

"Always," Jared answered, letting Jensen roll him onto his back. He braced his feet flat on the bed and spread his thighs, made room for Jensen between them. "Always," he repeated, his breath hissing in as Jensen pressed a finger, cool and slick from the lube, inside him. Jensen moved in him slowly, stroking in and out and never once looking away from Jared's face. It made Jared feel open and exposed, even more than being naked did, but it was amazing to know Jensen wanted to see all of him.

"Gorgeous," Jensen murmured to him. He pressed a second finger in and bent low to catch Jared's gasp with a long kiss. "God, so beautiful." He scissored his fingers, and Jared could feel his body relaxing and opening a little more each time. It was good, a low, intense buzz that built higher with each stroke and then arced spectacularly as Jensen found the exact right spot inside him, a careful, gentle touch that Jared desperately needed more of. Jensen gave it to him, again and again, and Jared felt himself getting hard once more.

Jensen knew it, too; he kept going with the same focus and attention, watching, _seeing_, every reaction Jared had, every gasp, every shudder, every helpless whine, even though he should have been paying attention to himself by now. Jared tried to tell him, tried to make him understand that Jared was good, more than good, but Jensen ignored all that, until Jared gave in and let him have his way, arching up into every stroke, spreading his legs even wider, fucking himself on Jensen's hand the way he wanted to on his dick.

"Now, Jen, please. Want to come around you," Jared moaned, and that, _finally_, set Jensen off, sent him grabbing for the rubber Jared had brought. Jared caught one leg behind his knee and pulled it down close to his chest, offering himself up to Jensen wordlessly.

Jensen looked up and caught sight of Jared and closed his eyes, just for a second, but then he was there, pressing against Jared, not quite inside but enough that Jared could feel how thick he was, how much Jared was going to have to take. It didn't matter: Jared wanted him, had wanted him for forever. He made a low encouraging noise, and then breathed out steadily as Jensen pushed into him, his heart slamming heavy and fast at the hard burn of being opened up even more. Jensen didn't stop, only kept pressing in deeper and deeper, rocking into Jared with an even, steady pressure that let Jared feel every inch of him.

"Jared," Jensen whispered, buried deep in Jared, dropping his head down to mouth along Jared's jaw, and Jared couldn't help smiling at everything he heard under that one, single word.

"Right here," Jared whispered back, wrapping his legs around Jensen's waist and bringing him in even closer. "Waiting on you, in case you missed that." Jensen laughed softly, and started moving, long, slow glide out and then a fast snap back in, each time quicker and harder, and it was all good, _so good_. Jared heard himself gasping that, and Jensen's name, and crazy, disjointed words. He let himself fall into everything, just let it wash over him, Jensen inside him and over him, all that Jared could feel and see and breathe.

"So close," Jensen breathed. "So close, so good."

Jared managed the necessary coordination to get his hand around his own dick, falling into rhythm with Jensen, holding off just long enough to be able to watch Jensen lose it before he quickened his strokes and let it all, everything, but especially Jensen's eyes and what he saw in them, draw a second orgasm out of him, slow this time, and long enough that Jared lost all track of time.

They stayed tangled together until Jensen was only breathing, not gasping, against Jared's neck and shoulder, and Jared didn't feel as though he might shake out of his skin, and then they only moved enough to lie alongside each other, Jared tucked up under Jensen's arm, the very tips Jensen's fingers dancing lightly over Jared's shoulder and back.

"Okay, that was seriously the way to celebrate the millennium," Jared said. Jensen laughed, a soft chuff of air that brushed over Jared like the tiniest of touches, and Jared reached down and ran his own fingers over the one spot on Jensen's ribs that sent him squirming. When things calmed back down, Jared tilted his head back so he could just meet Jensen's eyes. "Seriously," he repeated. "And don't tell me it's really not the new millennium; I'm going off the party definition here, not the actual scientific one."

"I wouldn't dream of arguing." Jensen had his quirky half-smile going, but he didn't laugh, so Jared let it slide. "Though I hope you're not planning to wait until the next millennium--or even the next year--to do it again."

"Very funny," Jared mumbled, all the sex and the day catching up to him suddenly. He couldn't stop the mammoth yawn that threatened to crack his jaw, either. "It was totally worth waiting for for years, but that's it. "

"Years?" Jensen was still. Jared knew what that meant, and he wasn't having any of it.

"You had to know that, Jen."

"I thought--"

"You thought I had a crush and I'd grow out of it and think you were boring or whatever it is that goes on in your head."

"You had dates," Jensen said. "School dances and the like."

"Of course," Jared answered. "You'd have had a fit if I skipped out on those--all about how I was cheating myself of all the good parts of school. I had fun, but the girls I went with all knew I was--" Jared stumbled a bit, because it was a big thing to say, even if it should have been so completely obvious by now. "They all knew I was in love with somebody else, and they were cool with just going and having a good time."

"I--"

"Don't," Jared said, before Jensen could really get going. "I know you had the thing about our ages, and, y'know, I still think it was kind of stupid, but whatever. We're here, and if you still think I'll be bored with you, I'm totally good with staying right here--" Jared threw one leg over Jensen's and pressed himself even closer-- "until I can get it through your head that I'm not going anywhere."

"Well," Jensen said, dryly. "If you're determined to stay the course for as long as it takes, I'll be happy to tell you I'm sure you'll tire of me. Please feel free to convince me otherwise."

"I can do that," Jared said. He knew Jensen was laughing at him again, but they were still practically breathing each other in, so he didn′t care. Plus: _tired_. And he was pretty sure he was the living definition of fucked-out. All good things, so he yawned again, instead. "In the morning, though."

"The morning works fine for me," Jensen murmured. Jared nodded. It was quiet for a while; Jared was almost asleep when Jensen added,″I love you, too, by the way.″

Jared didn′t care what Jensen thought, it was still the most awesome way to celebrate the new millennium _ever_, and Jared was definitely not letting Jensen out of bed until he agreed. With that plan firmly in mind, Jared fell asleep with Jensen wrapped around him and a smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to tassoss for cheerleading me through the rough draft; hurricanemegan for telling me it held together; and pensnest for Brit-picking. Serious editing handled (as always) by the ever-patient and -excellent without_me. And of course, much love to withdiamonds who traipsed around Disney World with me, plotting stories for prompts we didn't get. Next time!


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